Sparrows and Nightingales
by minorshan
Summary: Magic is unpredictable now, but it still comes at a price. After the curse breaks, a desperate Regina casts a spell, accidentally erasing her memory back to the day Daniel died. But all of Storybrooke will pay this spell's price. Is it truly justice to punish someone for crimes they don't remember? Can Regina come to grips with what she became? In FTL, Cora's origins and beyond.
1. Desperate Measures

**Author's Note: **This begins with a lot of monologuing to set the stage of what's happened immediately upon the breaking of the curse, but it will pick up soon enough. Hang in there if it's not your kind of thing and I think you'll enjoy the rest.

**Chapter 1: Desperate Measures**

"Oh Daddy, now what am I to do?" Regina Mills hung her head, her hands set wide apart on the lid of her father's sarcophagus. A tear dangled, as if shivering in the brisk New England air, from the tip of her nose. She sniffled and the droplet lost hold of its perch and landed with a dull splash amongst a smattering of its brethren. "You were right Daddy. You were always right. I should have moved on... started anew. And now... now I have nothing. Not you. Not Daniel. Not even Henry," she hiccuped with a sob. She didn't know if it was because of magic returning, or simply her imagination, but Regina could swear she could physically feel the void left in her heart from losing all those she'd once loved. She felt as if she might collapse in on herself at any moment, the emptiness was so profound.

The words of her father, on the night she took his heart, echoed in her head._ "We can have a new life."_ For all her power, she still couldn't secure her happy ending. Henry had come close to filling that void in her heart, but she had never been able to let go of the pain of losing her Daniel. It was a painful kind of love, but one she'd always believed gave her her strength. But then, as if a rebuttal from the grave, she heard her mother's voice._ "Love is weakness."_ As bitter as she'd become, this was one lesson Regina had never believed in. Yet, the words never seemed truer than that moment. And suddenly, she knew what she had to do. "I'm going to do as you said, Daddy. I'm going to move on, and build a new life. But I'm going to do it my way." She lightly kissed the cold stone of her father's resting place before turning and rushing out the door, not bothering to lock it behind her.

After stopping at home for a change into a more sensible outfit of dark wash jeans, a light cotton blouse of dark purple, and black woolen overcoat, Regina made the short drive out to Storybrooke's woodlands, and parked at the Wishing Well trail head. As she made her way along the trail, ascending the tallest hill in Storybrooke, she found herself reflecting on the past week. Her joy at Henry's recovery had been all too brief, as the magic required to wake him up proved powerful enough to break the curse, and she suddenly found herself in the middle of a city full of people who would have her head, as soon as the shock of waking up passed - and few, if any, friends.

Despite what every last one of them believed, Regina wouldn't have stopped Emma from saving Henry, even if she'd known the consequence. But she did wonder what would have happened had she kissed her son first. Would it have broken the curse or strengthened it? Tucked into the back of her mind was the dread that nothing would have happened at all - and not because she had no magic. In her more vulnerable moments she wondered if she was even capable of true, pure love any more. _'Is that why I didn't think to try waking Henry with a kiss?'_ She shook her head to herself, banishing the thought back below the depths. Self-doubt served no purpose.

She'd initially returned to her mansion intending to pack what she could and flee town as quickly as possible. With the curse broken, it was likely she'd be able to leave without incident. But, despite her intentions, she'd found herself grieving the loss of Henry, the only pure piece of happiness she'd managed to eek out in this world. Her heart broke as she looked at her baby boy's room; each item another piece of his story. He wasn't truly gone, like Daniel and her father, but in many ways it was worse. She'd so completely failed as a mother that her little boy wanted nothing to do with her. Again, the little voice, usually buried into the deepest recesses of her conscious mind, spoke up. _'What if I'm unlovable? Would Daniel have eventually left me, had his life been spared? _

She'd long ago realized that she'd turned into her mother after marrying the king. All women feared turning into their mother's, but not many had _her_ mother. It had crept up on her, the bitterness; she'd initially only turned toward magic to bring down her mother, but the power was too seductive. When she'd finally eliminated her mother, she was left with plenty of power, but little love, and no honorable way to pursue it.

Oh, King Leopold was indeed a kind and just ruler, but his heart belonged to his dead wife and her mirror image in his daughter. Behind the pomp and circumstance Regina found herself more a glorified nanny than mother, and certainly not a true wife. She'd tried, at first, to embrace her role, but Leopold had no interest beyond a platonic partner. It had never truly been one act that ha turned her - it had been the weight of sacrifice for her mother and father's happiness that had undone her. All set in motion by that little girl who possessed too trusting a heart.

Now, she found herself alone, truly alone, for the first time in her life. Emma had slain her only true friend in a quest magic to save Henry - not that Regina expected Maleficent to forgive her for trapping her in her dragon form for 28 years. Aside from that, there was Sydney the sycophant, and a handful of like-minded villains who_ couldn't_ be trusted, which is why she'd planned on fleeing town - or so she had until magic rolled back in to town. She'd instantly recognized the hand of Rumpelstiltskin, and while she realized it was playing to some ultimate end, she still had no guess as to his final goal. Not that it mattered. Rumple or Gold, he'd always been dangerous, and as long as she too had magic, she wasn't worried.

Her first magical act was to secure her estate against the inevitable angry mob. Her magical muscles had needed more stretching than she'd realized at first, and she found her magic as unpredictable in this world as before. She simply had more power behind it. As such, a task which would have taken her minutes in her home realm left her laboring into the night. The effort had been worth it, though, as her estate was now surrounded by walls of thorns. It wouldn't stop any determined group, but it would slow them down long enough to give her time to escape, should they come knocking. The question of what to do next proved much more difficult.

Her first two days in her makeshift fortress had given her new appreciation for just what Jefferson had been subjected to for 28 years, and she actually felt a glimmer of regret for what he'd forced her to do to him. On the third day, the rest of Storybrooke came knocking, but not in the way she'd expected. She'd almost not answered her phone when Emma Swan's name appeared on the screen, but she quickly realized that if she didn't answer that blonde, her chainsaw would instead. She'd been doubly surprised when Emma, still legally sheriff as far as the state if Maine was concerned, began by offering her a plea bargain.

True to her word, and her job, Emma had talked down the near riotous mob that had appeared at the gates of the mayoral mansion the morning after the breaking of the curse. Snow and James had stood with their new found daughter, and it was likely the weight their words that had saved Regina's neck that day. They had made the case that Regina's lust for revenge was what had doomed them to Storybrooke to begin with, and that when one sows the seeds of pain, pain is the only crop they can hope to reap. This had, not surprisingly, come from Jiminy's counsel.

Emma had agreed to treat Regina's self-imposed imprisonment as an official house-arrest sentence until they could figure out how to handle everything. Rumpelstiltskin had, she'd been told, largely kept to himself, only making one appearance in public to discuss details of the curse. He'd proven largely unhelpful, of course, and it was clear to Regina that he had an interest in staying in this world for the time being. He had, however, agreed to set up a barrier preventing anyone from leaving town, though mysteriously, it didn't keep strangers out. The various princes, and princess, kings and queens in residence quickly found that living 28 years in a land without monarchy had left Storybrooke's citizenry with a distinct lack of reverence for the concept of divine rule. As such, Emma had declared a state of marshal law until a new city government could be established. It wasn't terribly strict, but did give Emma, and her new band of seven deputies, the authority to arrest anyone taking advantage of the situation, or doling out vigilante justice against people such as Regina.

And so, Regina once again found her life saved by the blonde woman. If she hadn't been the product of a love borne from the destruction of her own happy ending, she would have felt a real debt to Emma. But as things stood, the best she could manage was begrudging respect. The smartly coiffed mayor had only left her home in the days following to visit her father's mausoleum and Daniel's memorial statue, and meet with Snow and James' counsel charged with finding a way back home. As much as the town's inexplicable fondness for Ms. Swan had irked her since her arrival in town, Regina had to admit that that respect was likely the only thing keeping the townspeople's dagger limited to their stares, rather than in her back.

Regina had made her way through the town gauntlet once again on this day to visit her father and try to come up with a plan for saving her neck. She found she couldn't concentrate in her home; when she wasn't brooding, she'd found herself constantly expecting to see Henry in the doorway. The cemetery held an odd sense of peace she found conducive to productive thought. And this morning it had finally clicked. She knew what she had to do.

It felt good to have a plan again.

Finally, Regina crested the top of the path and the wishing well came into view. The idea had first sprouted when she'd realized that until her stint on house arrest, she hadn't been to visit her father since the night she'd destroyed Graham's heart. She'd cursed the nature of magic that wouldn't let her remove her own heart. Graham had cursed her for making him incapable of feeling, but she'd have given anything to be rid of her feelings at that moment. Not only was it painful, but it clouded her mind, making the level of concentration necessary for casting spells in this world next to impossible. And she'd need that magic to escape whatever punishment the Storybrooke Council finally deemed appropriate. That's when it had dawned on her. If she couldn't take her own heart, why not simply take back what was hers?

She peered down into the inky depths of the well, taking in the sweet mossy scent of its water, absently fingering the ring that hung on a chain around her neck. Despite having its magic drained away by Jefferson's hat, it was still the best reminder of what - and who - she'd lost and why she needed to stay focused. Never before had she had such clarity of purpose than when she'd finally realized that Snow White must pay. If she could get that clarity back, nothing could stand in her way - not even her own self-pity.

Regina slowly pulled the chain over her head and dangled the brass ring over the water. She'd always been afraid that erasing her pain would erase her memories of Daniel, and he, the orphaned stable boy, deserved to be remembered. But she realized now that he lived on in her heart, and that didn't require her to stay forever in mourning. He wouldn't have wanted that for her. He would've wanted her to seize the day and build a new future for herself. With a deep breath, she took one last look at the ring that had acted for so long as her last link to her beloved - turned her mind to the clarity and peace of mind she'd known because of him - and dropped it. A final metallic glint flashed before it disappeared down the well. It seemed an eternity before she finally heard a distant plop, indicating it had hit its target.

Regina unconsciously drew in a deep breath and then held it, waiting for a sign that her clarity of purpose would be returned to her. Just as she was about to give up, a golden beam of energy suddenly shot up out of the well's black depths like a searchlight, knocking Regina's form back through sheer brilliance. The brunette lost her balance and the heel of her brown leather riding boots caught on a lower step as she tried to right herself, sending her rear to land with a thump onto the soft forest floor.

As Regina pulled herself back into a sitting position she saw the mysterious light fade like a time lasped sunset. "What the hell was that?" she asked aloud, as if expecting an answer. Glancing around her, the woman realized that she was alone. "Daniel?"


	2. Lacuna Rising

**Chapter 2: Lacuna Rising**

Silence. She was alone. In a forest?

She rubbed her head. Where was she? Her head mind was foggy, but she did her best to reach back through the haze and remember how she got here. The last she could remember, she'd been standing in the stable with Daniel, moments away from striking out to build a new life together. And then she'd suddenly found herself falling backward, only to land in a heap on a forest floor. Alone.

"Mother? If you did this mother - show yourself!" She shook her head. How else could she have gotten here? Her mother must have discovered their plans and separated them somehow. The only bit she couldn't understand is why her mother would send her away to a forest instead of Daniel. _Daniel!_ There was only one of two possibilities - she'd wanted Regina out of the way so she could eliminate the stable boy, or her mother's spell had gone awry. A desperate hope for the latter blossomed in her chest.

She quickly pulled herself to her feet, and began to brush the forest debris from her clothing in a rush. She was in such a rush that she'd almost not noticed what she was wearing. Gone was the heavy ermine lined cloak, and embroidered linen traveling dress, and in their place were clothes not unlike her riding outfit in cut, but made of a much lighter, foreign fabric. In place of her cloak she wore something that resembled a riding jacket, but instead of ending at her hips it draped down to her knees like a cloak, and sported lapels better suited to a gentleman's formal coat. The fabric resembled wool, but was far too light to be fashioned from that material. Despite this, it seemed remarkably good at insulating her from the brisk fall air.

She made to tuck the loose strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes while examining herself, only to find her long wavy locks were likewise transformed. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to take inventory and was shocked to find it trimmed to just above her shoulders. What witchcraft was this? Her mother would certainly never have allowed anyone to touch her regal cascade of hair. She pulled a lock of hair into view, surprised at how smooth and glossy it appeared, as if a strand couldn't have gone out of place even if she'd wanted it to.

Her heart was racing now, as if trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she found her feet moving before she had any idea where she was running to. She followed the only visible path; her feet on autopilot, her breath coming out in ragged white puffs as she fought to not completely panic. While she'd never had much experience in the woods - her mother forbade such boyish activities upon her tenth birthday - Regina knew enough to stay on established paths and listen for water, for both eventually lead back to civilization. When she'd reach the base of the large hillock she paused, as the path split north and south, and listened intently. Luckily, her noisy traversing had quieted all surrounding wildlife, and it wasn't long until she'd picked up on what sounded like rushing water. "North it is, then," she declared to herself with a nod.

With a direction now chosen, Regina forced herself to slow down and conserve her energy. For all she knew she was many a day's walk from the nearest village. As she trudged along she realized that the forest looked vaguely familiar - much like a back road on the outskirts of her family's estates that she enjoyed riding through when she wished to be alone - but not.

The palpable deja vu abruptly ended ten minutes later as she came to the end of the path, only to find a large road, paved with one endlessly long strip of black stone. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was simply finely ground stone, and what smelled vaguely like tar from the beaches of the Endless Ocean. Two yellow stripes were painted down the middle of the strip. But that wasn't even the most puzzling piece to the puzzle. Sitting on the side of the road was a large metal... something. She took a few steps nearer and realized that the object's middle section resembled a convoluted carriage - like a reproduction created by someone who have never seen a carriage, and had relied solely on a child's description. Seats faced the wrong way, there was no space for a coachman, and no cockeye to attach horses to. The sheer weight of all that metal and glass, not to mention the strange, thick black wheels, ruled out it simply being a strange royal litter.

Regina rubbed her hands together, seeking to stave off the cold biting at her fingertips, before stuffing them into the newly discovered pockets of her strange cloak-like coat. When her fingers met with metal in the right pocket she suddenly felt foolish for not checking to see if she was carrying anything on her person, and set to work searching the pockets of her foreign clothes. Out came a set of several small keys. They were much more blunt and thin than ones she was familiar with, but they were clearly still keys. One, which was topped by a hard black grip, was emblazoned with the same three-prong symbol perched on the section that made up the 'nose' of the oddly face-like front end of the metallic monstrosity. She shrugged, realizing that she had no other clues, and went to work looking for a matching lock. She quickly noticed that the doors had what appeared to be slits, next the handles, and slid the key in to the door nearest the area adorned with what looked like a ship's wheel.

A loud sound, not unlike the slide of a well-oiled deadlock, sounded as she turned the key and she couldn't help her startled jump. Regina found her circumstances beyond unnerving but hadn't realized just how wound up she was until that moment. She took a deep breath and slowly lifted up the handle. A quiet pop, and the door came slightly ajar. Again, she discovered that despite its metallic appearance, the door was far lighter than she'd expected. She wondered absently if she hadn't been deposited to an another land by a realm jumper. She'd heard tales of strange lands where the food would make you grow or shrink, or one where horses were constantly changing colors in a kaleidoscopic fashion. It would certainly explain a lot.

Regina slid onto the leather seat and began searching for any clues that might shed some light on her situation and was quickly rewarded with the discovery of a large, black leather satchel. It was surprisingly empty for its size, and what contents there were, were largely impersonal and mystifying. Finally, she undid the strange buttons on a folded container that resembled the leather cover for a small book, but without any pages. Inside this case she found what could only be described as the most finely detailed portrait of herself - or harsher version of herself that mirrored her mother - she'd ever seen, on what looked like a social calling card. The small rectangular card was covered in information that matched her description to a tee. At the top it simply read "Maine Driver's License". She blinked, perplexed. Why did she need a document to let her be a carriage driver? Why _was _she a carriage driver? And what was a 'Maine'? As much as she hated to admit it, she was scared. So scared, she would actually welcome her mother's presence at the moment.

The only other things she found were more small cards, and rectangular green and white papers adorned with stylized woodcut portraits she was much more familiar with. She stuffed the strange documents back into the satchel when she found nothing else and slung it over her shoulder as she exited the metallic carriage. As mystifying as it all was, everything pointed to these objects being hers, and at the very least the leather satchel would be useful should her journey prove long. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she began to make her way down the road, still heading north; the fear, confusion, and independence making her feel more alive than she had her entire life.

The walk proved blessedly shorter than she'd initially feared as she heard the din of a village about an forty-five minutes later. Perking her ears, she tried to make out something familiar, but the sounds were unlike anything she'd heard. Dull rumbles mixed with what sounded like a bestial roars, and strange music drifted out. And once again, as she followed the final bend in the road, she was flabbergasted by what she found around the corner. Strange buildings of wood, stone, and glass sat along the roadside, and people travelled along on slate gray paths that lined the edges of the black tar road. Many, many more of the metallic coaches travelled along the road, none exactly the same as the other, save for the fact that they moved without horses. The people themselves were dressed as strangely as herself, a realization that both comforted and scared her.

Was this some kind of wizard's community? Had her mother finally had enough and banished her here? Unlikely, with the king's marriage proposal looming. There certainly seemed to be a plethora of magic being used to move things and make signs glow. The sound of clock chimes, reassuringly familiar, rang out across what appeared to be the town square and she looked up to see a familiar looking clock tower. It was then that she noticed the passersby. Although she was dressed oddly, she thought her clothes conformed to the style favored in this hamlet, so why the stares? No. Not just stares. Glares.

A twinkle of anger or disgust clouded the face of every person she passed. What was she to them? "Excuse me..." She raised a hand to young couple walking toward her but the woman shook her head,while the man simply ignored her.

She tried again with the next person. "Pardon me..."

And again."I'm sorry to bother you, but..."

With each person that gave her the cold shoulder the less fearful and more frustrated she became. Finally, she found herself standing outside a building labelled as the Sheriff's office and decided to try her luck there. Certainly a man of the law wouldn't refuse helping her.

She pushed open the door and made her way down an empty hallway, somehow lit without fire, and peered into the largely glass doors of the first room on her right. Sure enough, a man clad in what she presumed to be the leather gear of an experienced tracker stood talking with a blonde woman clad in a red leather jacket, breeches tucked into her knee-high brown boots. Normally, she hated to interrupt, but excused her rude behavior to herself, given her situation. Nonetheless, she lightly rapped her knuckles on the glass pane as she opened it, finding it to feel much sturdier than she'd been expecting.

Regina put on her best apologetic smile as she closed the door behind her and the leather-clad pair noticed her entrance. "I'm sorry - I don't mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you might be able to help me," she began, dipping her head into a slight bow. "This is going to sound crazy, but I'm not sure how-"

The blonde threw up a hand, in a motion for Regina to stop, cutting her off. "What are you doing here?" Her expression, along with the man's, reflected the same contempt for her as the villagers. Perhaps they simply didn't like outsiders?

"As I said," she began, a little flustered, but continued her way across the room. "This may sound strange, but I don't know how I got here." She turned to the whisker-stubbled face of the man. "And I didn't know where else to go. Please, Sheriff, if I could have just a moment of your time..."

While the man looked perplexed, the blonde had crossed her arms. "What are you playing at, Regina?"

Regina was taken aback. "How do you know my name?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? _This_ is how you plan on getting a lighter sentence?" She rolled her eyes and Regina felt hostility bubble up for a moment in her stomach. How could this woman presume to insinuate she was a common criminal?

"Did my mother put you up to this?" Regina asked, suspiciously.

"I'm serious, Regina," the blonde practically growled.

Regina balled her hands into fists at her side, willing herself to calmness. "I'm trying to talk to the Sheriff, so if you don't mind-"

"Fine. Have it your way." replied the blonde. "So talk to me, already."

Regina blinked, surprised by this little revelation. Although strange, the concept of a female sheriff was by far from the strangest things she'd encountered today. "Oh, I'm sorry - I didn't realize. I just assumed that he -" she cut herself off, flustered. "My sincere apologies, miss..." Her tone clearly indicated that she was prompting the sheriff to introduce herself, but all she got was the woman and man exchanging flabbergasted looks.

The sheriff shook her head. "Well, that's a new low. Pretending to, what? Have amnesia? Or maybe its like the curse boomeranged back at you and now your memory has been erased? Come off it, Regina, or so help me-"

Regina flung her hands into the air. "Come off what? I ask for help, you're immediately suspicious; I ask for a simple introduction and I'm..." She shook her head. "A liar? What the hell is going on? What is this place?" Her shoulders slumped and she was now fighting back tears. She was alone, an unwelcome stranger in the strangest place she's ever seen, and scared to death that she'd just wandered into a trap. Why else would people she'd never seen before in her life react so venomously? She looked back up at the other woman. "Just... can you just tell me where I am?" Her voice was tired and small and suddenly incredibly vulnerable.

It was behavior Emma had never seen Regina display. Not even in her desperation to save Henry had she seemed so out of sorts. Could it be that this wasn't an act? If it was, she'd never seen a better one. "Storybrooke. But so help me, if you're acting - trying to make me look like a fool - I'll make you yearn for the days that cutting down your apple tree was the worst I could do."

Regina frowned in confusion, but without a hint of hostility. "My apple tree? Nobody has cut it down... have they?"

"I think she's serious," said August, finally. If there was one person better at spotting lies than Emma, it was him. And he couldn't remember seeing her ever so genuine.

Emma had come to the same observation, but it wasn't in her nature to trust immediately, and certainly not with this woman who had caused so much grief to so many people. "And you say you don't know how you got here?" she asked.

Regina, eyes now red-rimmed, looked up from the floor. "No..." She looked so small, and lost, she almost didn't look like the same woman to Emma.

"But you know who _you_ are?" Regina nodded in affirmation of Emma's question.

"Then, what's the_ last_ thing you remember?" asked August.

"I was in my family's stables. I was was getting ready to..." she paused, and to Emma's shock, actually blushed. "... elope. We were talking, tacking the horses, and then suddenly I fell, and was here. Well, not here - I was in the forest outside town at some well. I followed the path back to the road and that road led me to this... Storybrooke you said?"

Emma nodded.

"Was his name Daniel?" another woman's voice asked from behind Regina.

She turned around to find a pretty young woman with creamy white skin and hair in the style of a pixie. Next to her stood a young boy who couldn't be older than 11, holding a wicker basket. "Y-yes. How did you know?" she asked guardedly. "Do you know my mother?"

The woman nodded silently and made her way closer, the boy on her heels, and seemed to be studying Regina in a way she found strangely unnerving for such a harmless looking woman. There was a fiery strength inside her that belied her innocent looking features. The boy looked curious, but suspicious. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Regina knelt down to his eye level and raised an eyebrow, amused by the boy's brashness. It reminded her of herself at that age. "That's what I'd like to know." She cocked her head to one side. "And what's your name?"

Henry's eyes widened as he realized there was zero recognition in her eyes. She really, truly, didn't remember him. "Uh, Henry..."

Regina extended her hand and gave him a warm smile through her flushed face. "Oh! That's my father's name!"

"I know..." replied Henry, not knowing what else to say.

Regina stood up and furrowed her brow. "How do you know that? Who are you people?" She began to back away, but her thigh bumped up against a metal desk.

"We've met before, Regina," replied Snow with calm suspicion.

"When?" asked Regina, her voice tightened by nerves.

Snow shook her head. She had been a child at the time, but there was no mistaking it. This was a version of Regina that had disappeared the night Daniel died. "A long, long, time ago."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand. Are you from a neighboring kingdom, or perhaps one of the miller families my mother grew up with?"

Snow took a deep breath, her brow knotted, and bit her bottom with for the briefest second. "My name is Snow. Snow White." She gave Regina what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Rather than look surprised, or frightened, Regina's expression simply became more clouded in confusion. "Like King Leopold's daughter? Was she named after you? Because if you know him, perhaps you can show me the same kindness he is renowned for and help me? Your _venerable_ sheriff doesn't seem interested," she replied, waving her hand vaugely in the direction of Emma and August.

Emma studied the woman. That haughty spark was still there, but it lacked any of the devious venom of Regina's usual insults. It was more like the attitude of entitlement she'd seen in teenage girls from families with more money than time for good parenting. Still, in spite of everything she'd seen the last week, she had a hard time believing that this wasn't simply another one of the mayor's schemes.

Snow, on the other hand, had known Regina well; from before her heart had been completely rotted away under the gangrenous effects of bitterness left to fester. Somehow, something behind her eyes made her seem younger, despite looking exactly as Regina had for two decades now. "No... I'm the Kig's daughter Snow. I know it's hard to believe, but look around you. We're not in our realm anymore. And it's been quite some time since the day you saved me from that runaway steed."

Regina's eyes became saucer-like in size, and again she attempted to back away, more quickly this time, which simply ended with her falling back to sit on the desk. The room was silent with Snow, Emma, and August exchanging looks; communicating what, Regina wasn't sure. The voice of the little girls she'd saved just days ago echoed in her mind, and the voice of this woman, claiming to be one in the same, echoed back in answer. The tone, the lilt, it was identical - the only difference being that the second was pitched down slightly with maturity. Regina swallowed hard and shook her head. It couldn't be.

The woman calling herself Snow White reached out a reassuring hand, which Regina shrank back from. "I don't know what's happened to you, but we'll figure it out-" She finally let her hand drop and her expression of concern was a mirror for the little girl's, although transformed by time and age. Her eyes sparkled just the same, but tempered by the loss of innocence suffered in adulthood.

"Do we have to?" Emma shot back, half-seriously.

"Emma!" Snow scolded.

The blonde shot Snow a devilish smirk. "I know, I know. It's what decent people do. I told Regina as much when I saved her from that fire. It was a joke."

"No! This is some kind of trick! I've never been in a fire!" She narrowed her eyes at Snow. "You're her sister or long lost mother or something!" She pulled herself to her feet, not turning her back to the from the group as she used her hands to guide her as she scrambled around the desk, and only stopped when she'd positioned herself in such a way that it acted a a barrier between herself and the strange group. "Are you hoping to ransom me off? Because believe me," she laughed with false bravado. "Nothing parts my mother with her gold. She'll rip you apart with her dark magic before you see a silver!"

This 'Snow' remained infuriatingly calm and consoling. "I assure you, I _am_ her."

"Prove it, then!" Regina shot back as she began to draw up her well-practiced defenses, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. She glanced back down at the boy, whose face merely reflected a fascination with her. He was the only person she'd met so far in this bizarre hamlet who had yet to regard her with any kind of hard expression. Who brought a child to a kidnapping, anyway?

The blonde, Emma, planted her hands on her hips. "Why am I not surprised she's insulting us even without her memory?" she deadpanned. "I mean, seriously, give us a little credit. Who kidnaps someone just to leave them in the woods, expecting her to find her way back to her kidnappers?" She rolled her eyes.

Regina scowled at this, not appreciating the tone, even if she did the logic. Whoever these people were, whatever had happened, it was unlikely they were a part of it. She turned back to raven-haired woman. "I'm waiting! You can't expect me to take your story on faith alone."

Snow sighed and thought back. It had been nearly forty years ago, or about twenty, depending on how you counted it, and while it was the key event in her life, she didn't remember most of it anymore. As far as she could tell, this Regina didn't seem to resent Snow, so whatever her memories, they seemed to end before Daniel's murder. Finally, she settled on what she hoped would convince her former stepmother. "The night I... interrupted Daniel's proposal - and I do apologize for that," she added with a melancholic smile. "When I ran, and you'd caught up, you explained to me how love works. That it was magic - magic that creates happiness." She tilted her head to one side, searching Regina's face. "You know we were alone, in the dead of night - how else could I know that?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat, not just at the exchange no one but Snow should have known about, but also at the woman's face. She no longer wore her hair in childish ringlets held back by a bow, but it was the same tint of pure ebony. Her face was still cherubic and fair, but matured, including a few lines around the eyes. But really, truly striking, were her eyes. That expression, that unique mix of kindness, worry, and pleading, so distinct on the little girl, was a mirror image in this woman's eyes. "But... how...?" The words spilled from her lips before a coherent thought had truly been formed.

Snow, feeling more comfortable with approaching the confused woman, stepped forward, around the desk, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's what we're going to find out." She gently guided Regina to a chair, who promptly sat as her legs seemed to go rubbery beneath her.

Regina looked up at Snow, finding it suddenly strange to have the young girl standing so tall above her, treating her more like a mother than her own ever had. Her mind's eye flickered back and forth randomly between seeing her as that girl, and as a stranger, like meeting a someone who strongly resembled a close friend. "Is this some strange new realm... or... I don't know," she ran her hands through her hair, elbows plated firmly on the desk. "Were you cursed to lose your childhood?"

"No..." Snow chuckled. "Well, not any more than anyone else is by father time." She pulled up a chair and sat herself across from Regina.

"Then I was sent, or brought to the future?" she asked. She watched as Snow dug into the small satchel she'd been carrying on her shoulder and pulled out a small dark pink disc that looked like it was made from pearl. Clearly, she still had the wealth of a royal to have such a thing, even if her strange clothing was simple and unadorned.

"Also not any more so than anyone else." Snow popped the disc open and held it up, facing the inside toward Regina. "It's been decades since your last memory happened. But you lived through all of them. You just seem to have forgotten it..."

A glint of light from the pink disc caught Regina's eye and she suddenly realized Snow was holding up a small mirror. She leaned forward, realizing the woman wanted to her to take it. Without knowing exactly why, Regina's stomach fluttered nervously as she brought it up to look at her reflection. The woman looking back brought the same confusion of images to her mind as integrating you Snow and grown Snow had just moments before. It was her face - her shocked, frightened face - looking back at her, but more angular than the last one she'd seen that morning. Or what she remembered as that morning.

Her fingers touched her lips, stained a dark, almost blood-red plum color she'd never have thought to choose, then made their way along her cheekbone as she tilted her head to one side, tracing the dusky rose blush that almost blended into the smokey hue dusting her eyelids. She followed her finely shaped eyebrows that had been plucked into a more dramatic shape than she was used to. It was then that she noticed the fine frown lines creasing her forehead and slight crows feet at the corners of her eyes. They were, or course, masterfully concealed by a fine layer of makeup, but you can't completely hide imperfection from the one person who saw your face everyday. The makeup suddenly felt suffocating, now that she was aware of it, to the young woman who'd preferred a fresh, minimalistic approach to beauty. She ran her hands through her hair only to notice how her nails, always elegantly manicured, now featured a clear glossy film that made them glimmer like jewels. The overall effect was one that made her appearance harsher than she'd ever thought it possible for her to look. Sure, she had her outbursts, but she never excused herself for such petulant behaviour, and would apologize when she'd calmed down. But there was a predatory look to the woman staring back at her in the mirror, even in her current vulnerable state. A strangely familiar predatory look about the dramatic makeup that she couldn't quite place. And then it hit her with a flash: her mother.

She doubled over from the realization - a nightmare come to life - dropping the looking glass. "I look like... I - I - I've become my mother!" Suddenly, a pulse of purple energy exploded from what felt like a rock in her stomach, which didn't seem to do much except send a whoosh of air with it, ruffling the hair and clothing of the people surrounding her.

While this simply startled everyone else, raising Emma and Snow's hackles in particular, Regina felt her stomach drop out from under her, and her vision began to spot as she suddenly found it difficult to catch her breath. _'Magic! I did magic! Dark magic! Oh, gods, she turned me into her! Into one of those dark __**things! **__What part of my soul did she steal to turn me?' _She gulped at the air like a fish in a net, finally able to get a few words out. "Gods! I've - I've turned - into - my _mother_!" Her lungs were working double time to get air, but seemed to make no progress, and she could barely see through the sparkling spots that danced across her vision, when a pair of warm hands gently pressed into her shoulder, guiding her to lay back. She pushed back instinctively against what felt like someone restraining her, but found it impossible to resist in her current state. "Hey... hey, just relax," a female voice said gently, but firmly, as the hands guided her back insistently. "You need to calm down, and breathe through your nose. You're hyperventilating." Regina's head reeled, but she obeyed, and quickly started to feel like she would, indeed recover. As her head cleared, though eyes still shut, she suddenly found herself embarrassed at the sight she must be; a silly thought she realized, but one that couldn't be helped as a result of a lifetime of aristocratic grooming. She let out a bitter chuckle that came out strangled with her gulps for air.

She heard the little boy, Henry, step up beside her and then the rustle of heavy paper, which found its way into her hands. "Here, breathe into this," he instructed. Regina pried her eyes open, puzzled by the request, but still not confident she wouldn't faint if she moved too much or tried to speak.

"It'll help calm your breathing," offered Emma, who still had one hand on her shoulder as she knelt beside her. "Seal it over your nose and mouth." Too disoriented to argue, Regina placed the crumpled brown paper bag over her face did as instructed. She let her eyes close again, and did her best to slow her breathing. The bag was oddly comforting as it carried the sweet residual aroma of apples and cinnamon, reminding her of her childhood nursemaid's famous apple pies.

As her breath finally seemed to be settling back into a normal rhythm, Snow returned, whom Regina hadn't noticed missing until that moment, with a tall glass of water, which she settled down on the nearby desk. Emma moved herself to stand behind Snow, giving Regina her personal space now that the episode had passed. She glanced at Henry, who seemed to be searching her face for something, as August rested a leather gloved hand on his shoulder in a familial gesture.

It was Emma who finally broke the silence as Regina's hands, still holding the bag, came to rest in her lap. "Hey - don't be too embarrassed. A lot of women I know freaked out when they realize they've turned into their mother," joked Emma. "Usually not so dra-"

The homey aroma of pie and warmth of kindness were suddenly turned putrid as the sickening revelation about herself came back to the forefront of her mind, and her body didn't seem to want it there any more than Regina did. "I think I'm going to be sick!" she mumbled as she doubled over, bringing the bag back to her face. She dry heaved a few times as she felt a delicate hand softly make circles on her back.

When the feeling had passed she took a couple deep breathes and pulled herself upright again. Emma gave her an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you..." she shrugged. "You know." She held out a piece of damp white fabric. "Wet nap?"

Though mystified by what that last pair of words meant, Regina took the cloth and used it to gently dab at the cold sweat droplets which had formed along her hairline. "Thank you," she replied in a manner more genuine than Emma had ever seen. Snow, too, had only seen her so once before - when she'd agreed to keep Regina's secret. A pang of regret seized her for a moment, but it was an issue she had dealt with emotionally years ago, and the feeling quickly passed.

Regina, for her part, was still finding it hard to find footing enough to even begin to get a handle on it all. "It's alright... I... I think it's just everything. I feel like I'm losing my mind..." she said softly. "I don't normally fall apart at the drop of a hat."

Snow nodded with an understanding smile. "Well, it's not every day you wake up in a strange realm and find out that the last thing you remember happened decades ago."

Regina looked down at the damp cloth in her hand, surprised to find it largely turned a dark peach color - clearly from the makeup she could still feel sitting on her face like a mask. "You don't happen to have a wash basin nearby do you?"

Emma nodded. "Something like that. Henry, why don't you show Regina how to use the sink," she said, nodding her head towards a door labeled with a white human figure against a blue placard.

"Sure!" The boy took her hand as if it were the most routine gesture between them in the world and she stood up to follow him.

When the pair was out of earshot, Emma, August, and Snow quickly fell into a huddle. "Well?" asked Emma. "Crocodile tears, or...?" Of the three, she had little experience with magic, and even August had seen the Queen before the curse, even if he was just a child.

"She seems... like I remember her," replied Snow, while August simply shrugged.

"But she's Regina," said Emma. Little else needed to said to make the argument for deception.

Snow nodded and sighed. "Still, I've never seen her lose her composure like that. I don't think she'd know how to fake it."

"Well, she could have cast a memory spell on herself," offered August.

"And made herself innocent..." Emma added slowly. "We go lightly on her - or don't punish her at all. Her spell times out, she gets her memory back, and she gets away with everything, scot-free! Uh, that's something a spell can do, right?"

Snow sighed. "Properly crafted, they can do anything... Still, we can't just automatically assume she did this on purpose - or even did this at all."

August nodded. "Rumplestiltskin would certainly like her out of the way for whatever it is he's planning."

"We don't know that she's in the way either," replied Emma. She turned to Snow. "We can't just give her the benefit of the doubt here - she nearly killed Henry, she destroyed our family, not to mention hundreds of other people's happy endings! Even if she doesn't remember doing it - she still did it!"

"Believe me, Emma, I know," Snow answered, her voice low and dark. "But I won't just blindly unleash vengeance. I nearly lost myself to that darkness. I would have, if it hadn't been for your father." The illustration of 'Dark Snow', as Henry had nicknamed her, in the book came to mind. It was the period of time when Snow had given into dark magic to forget James; consumed by revenge, she'd lost the ability to feel all forms of love. Emma had never fallen that far, though she'd danced along the edge, but then she also didn't have magic to interfere with the natural order of things. Snow shook her head. "If she's carrying the heart of the young woman I once knew, I won't have a hand in inflicting any more sorrow on her. I can't." Her voice was rough, and Emma knew that however they handled this, it would have to be with kid gloves until they figured out what was truly going on.

Regina followed Henry into a small room where he pushed a small lever in the wall, next to the door and the space was suddenly illuminated with a sterile white light. She looked around, finding herself even more disoriented than when she'd wandered into town. There seemed to be a giant chamber pot built into the wall, which she absently wondered how that could possibly be sanitary. A single chrysanthemum sat in a waterless glass vase on top of a rectangular porcelain box that appeared to be part of the chamber pot unit, and fixed to the wall next to the commode was a roll of some extraordinarily thin white fabric.

"You probably didn't have indoor plumbing back home, huh?" asked Henry cheekily.

She looked down at the boy who she began to realize she was strangely fond of. She assumed she must have known him, but wondered how that could possibly be if she'd become everything she hated about her mother. She shook her head. "Uh, no. What's plumbing?"

"Well, uh..." Henry wrinkled his nose. He hadn't anticipated her actually asking, and his adoptive mother had always been quite strict about talking about 'unpleasant' things. Normally any discussion of such things would have brought up her ire, but he hoped this Regina wouldn't be so uptight. One way or another, she _had_ asked. "Ok, this is the soap," he said as he pushed a button on white box and pink liquid drizzled out to pool on the floor." He his contorted into a grimace, expecting to be yelled at, was simply met with a patient silence from Regina. He was convinced - there was no way she remembered Storybrooke! "You should normally catch that with your hand." He reached up to a grey, oddly shaped box that had brown, haphazardly torn paper dangling out the bottom. He push a handle on the side and more paper was rolled out. "These are paper towels to dry your hands with." He ripped off a piece and bent down to clean up the mess, threw the soapy paper into the trash, and pointed at the other furniture in the room. "That's a toilet. You use it to... you know.. relieve yourself." He turned his attention to the washing basic affixed to the wall. "And this is a sink - they're both connected to pipes that bring water to them, and then flush away the dirty water."

Regina sneered her upper lip. "Not into the same river that's feeding this, I hope!"

"I don't think so... but I'm _only_ ten. Anyway, it's clean enough to drink from the tap, so it's not gross or anything." He reached out and turned a metal handle, and to Regina's amazement, water did in fact immediately flow out. It certainly looked clean. The boy shut it off. "The one on the left is hot water, and the one on the right is cold."

"Magic is certainly used ubiquitously in this land," announced Regina.

Henry cocked his head to one side. "I don't know what ubick... er, whatever that word means, but that's not magic. There was no magic in Storybrooke up until about a week ago, actually!"

Regina nodded. "Quite clever craftsmen you have here, then. But why would magic suddenly come to this land?"

Henry's previously bright expression darkened and he looked away. "I... probably should let Emma and Snow explain that to you. You're probably not ready for that yet, anyway."

Regina regarded the boy with a thoughtful expression but didn't press the issue. He was just a child, and pressuring him simply wouldn't have been fair. Regina looked back up and into the mirror, and only then realized that she'd been crying, and quickly looked back down. She found herself feeling retroactively exposed, despite being alone, at this revelation. She couldn't look at that reflection and everything it implied - her past and the present. She sighed. "Hey, Henry, can I have a moment to myself? I need to think about some things."

Henry promptly walked deeper into the cramped room, climbed up on the toilet, and tried to jiggle the small window pane that ran along near the ceiling. Satisfied, he hopped back down. At her questioning gaze he shrugged. "Sorry. Nothing personal." With that, he exited and Regina closed the door behind him.

For everything Snow had been through, Emma knew there was a still a small piece of irrational guilt she carried - the guilt of causing not just Daniel's execution, but every consequence from that event that followed, down to Emma's own loss of innocence. And she wasn't going to stoke that fire if she could help it. "Alright. So, what do we do then?"

"Why not bring her to the Blue Fairy?" Henry piped in. The group, surprised by his sudden appearance turned around to find alone. "You know, Mother Superior? In the book it says she can smell dark magic."

"Henry, where's Regina?" Emma asked.

"Oh, she's still in the bathroom. She said she wanted to be alone for minute." He shrugged, but the adults all looked alarmed. "Don't worry - the window is painted shut, I checked. She's not getting out without making a lot of noise. It's not like she can get out of Storybrooke, anyway."

August and Snow laughed as Emma shook her head. "You're too smart for your own good, kid."

"On both counts," added August.

Henry beamed. "Thanks!" He then paused. "Uh, what was the other?"

"The Blue Fairy," said Snow. "You're right. She should be able to sense any enchantment cast for nefarious purposes."

"Even here?" asked Emma. She was barely familiar with the 'rules' of magic, let alone how it behaved here, which even the experts were still trying to figure out.

"Probably," said Snow. "It's somewhere to start, in any case."

With that, the issue seemed settled and Emma was struck, as she had been many times since the 'awakening', at the subtle differences between Mary Margaret and Snow. Snow's natural leadership and decisiveness had been dampened under the curse, turning an incredibly strong woman into a what amounted to a the indecisive best friend you'd see in a hackneed romantic comedy. Only under the most extreme of circumstances had she seen Mary reveal the inner strength that could never be erased - only suppressed. Just as James' natural kindness had been warped into a cowardly penchant for avoiding conflict at all costs.

She sighed, looking down into the washing basin, or sink, as the boy had called it, and turned the handle as he had. Water once again flowed and cautiously ran her fingers under it. It was icy cold, like a stream in winter. Remembering what Henry had said about hot water she turned the other handle, and as she'd guessed, the two streams mixed to create a pleasantly warm temperature. _'Well, I could certainly get used to thing,'_ she thought as she cupped her hands under the stream, quickly filling them.

She splashed the water on her face, trying to focus on the task as a way to pull herself together. She repeated the action, this time adding a dollop of the pink liquid soap to her palm before the water and briskly rubbed her hands on her face. She rinsed and forced herself to check her reflection. Water droplets hung from the tip of her nose, chin, and eyelashes, but traces of the eyeshadow and lip color remained. She looked like a half-drowned cat. Frowning, she collected a large wad of paper towel, loaded it with soap, and soaked it through to make a rudimentary sponge. She scrubbed with a purpose now, determined to erase as much of her future self from her appearance as possible, finding the sting cleansing for her skin and her soul. She looked up again, and seeing that the face looking back was almost the one she felt she should be seeing, patted her face dry. She then ran wet fingers through her short hair, pushing it back, away from her face. It was too short to braid back as she was accustomed to, so it would have to do for now.

She turned to the door, lifted her hand to the handle, and froze when skin touched metal. Even though the small room was just as strange as anything on the other side of that door, here she was queen of her own little one-room kingdom. Outside, was a strange world she knew as much about as a newborn fawn does the forest, and her knees felt just as wobbly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would have to so just as the fawn did and learn to walk before she could even stand. Dread, nonetheless, cast a shadow over her heart. She couldn't have explained had someone asked her to, but she had a feeling that some terrible truth awaited her out there - and she'd always been remarkably intuitive. _'I could be wrong,'_ Regina told herself. _'They seem happy enough. So maybe my instinct is wrong.'_

She hoped she was wrong.

"There's a first time for everything, right?" she said quietly to no one. She thought of Daniel - was he here? Had he awoken somewhere else, inside town perhaps? Surely she couldn't be alone. Finally, she pursed her lips and forced the spent breath from her lungs. Eyes snap open. Hand pushed down. The door opens smoothly, despite the squeal of protest._ 'You and me both,'_ she thought in imaginary commiseration with the wooden plank.

She wasn't surprised when she found the group, the only people she knew in this world, fall silently and turn to look at her. She'd been the center of attention many times in her life when entering a room, and she'd enjoyed it. But this wasn't a ball or cotillion, and suddenly having all eyes on her was not just unappealing, but rather intimidating. She hadn't the fine clothes, nor gold, that brought respect and obedience in her realm, and consequently couldn't make them tell her what they'd been talking about. She knew it had to be about her; the question was - what? Still, she did as her mother had taught her - to the point of it becoming reflex - and drew herself up, gathering what was left of her confidence and paired it with the practiced mask of indifference she'd developed to deal with her mother.

The thought of what Regina had done to her family made Emma's blood boil.

Yet, as the latch clicked and Regina reappeared, face cleansed of any makeup, and rosy cheeked - likely from scrubbing, and Emma was suddenly struck with the reality that the woman hadn't always been that venomous, power-hungry snake she'd known, any more than Emma herself had been born guarded and aloof. Evil wasn't born - it was made. She'd long believed that, having seen so many sweet, lonely kids turned into dangerous, self-serving teens by the system; Regina had tested that conviction like no other - and that included Henry's father.

The brunette regarded the group, tucking her hair behind her ears, away from her face, and Emma studied her in return. She watched the woman, and seeing that she was being studied, quickly threw up a guarded facade. It wasn't the classic arrogant, calculating, Regina stance; it was defensive, not offensive. Watching this little hint of Regina's internal monologue, Emma suddenly felt as if she'd learned more about the bitter woman in the past ten minutes than she had in the last nine months.

And then, as if a fog had parted from Emma's view, the woman Regina could have been, had circumstances been different. was revealed. Just as the curse had suppressed the best qualities, and enhanced the weaknesses, of Storybrooke's citizens, the tragedies of Regina's life had been lovingly cultivated to lead her down a dark path, guided by an evil green thumb, until her soul bore nothing but the most poisonous fruit. _'Well, they do say that manure makes the best fertilizer,'_ Emma thought to herself. Sarcasm aside, she couldn't help the faint flicker of pity for the heart of the young woman who stood before her. Despite the false bravado she was putting on, without the makeup, and her hair slightly mussed, Regina looked every inch the fresh-faced young woman who had saved Snow rather than a calculating mayor or evil queen.

Regina took an few steps forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Deciding what to do with me?" She asked lightly.

"As a matter of fact, yes," replied Emma. "You ever hear of the Blue Fairy?"

Regina raised an eyebrow. "The Reul Ghom? Only be reputation. I've called for her before; when I was a child, but... she never deigned to answer," she finished, her tone quietly sad, with just the glimmer of a thread of bitterness. Snow's brow knit at this, but she remained silent. Regina looked back up. "So, I'm afraid that unless you know where to find her..." She shrugged.

"As a matter of fact, she's just down the street," replied Emma.

Regina shook her head. "Well, if I'd known she had a house, I would have come calling years ago!" she she remarked flippantly, in an attempt the lighten the mood - the last thing she wanted was to be pitied. The laugh from Snow was payment enough for the effort, as the little girl she'd only just met reappeared in that laugh, but her stomach immediately flipped yet again with the reminder of how far from home she'd suddenly found herself.

"We're kind of at a loss here as to how to start, so we-" Henry let out an exaggerated cough. Emma amiled, rolling her eyes at his precociousness. "I'm sorry - _Henry _had the bright idea to consult her."

"Hopefully she'll know what kind of magic is at play here," added August. "I don't know about you,, but I don't want to be in the position of dealing with Rumplestiltskin if we can avoid it."

"No one's making any deals with that man again - no matter what the situation," Snow declared in what Emma had taken to think of as her 'queen' voice. She'd heard plenty of it in the last few days as Snow and Charming had been working round the clock to keep order. "The favor is never worth the price - and one favor owed is more than enough for my family!"

Regina blanched. "Rumplestiltskin!" she blurted out. "He's here?"

Snow nodded. "Everyone from our realm is here."

"Well that's it then!" Regina exclaimed. The four all clearly were not following. "I must be the key - I mean, I know I just got here, so it's kind of a shot in the dark, but all this is the perfect way to 'collect his restitution'. A world without magic would be the only way to separate her from her powers!"

A pause. Emma furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry - who shot who in the what now?"

"_You_ know that imp?" cried Snow. "What could you have_ possibly _needed - you have your youth, wealth, family -_ why _make a deal with him?"

Her tone was strange mix of surprise, pity, and motherly scolding. Although Regina was not used to be addressed in such a manner by anyone but her own parents, she understood the reason behind it. As far as she was concerned, Rumpelstiltskin was a goblin merely wearing the skin of a man - which wasn't beyond his abilities, really. And apparently Snow cared enough to be concerned for the safety of her would-be stepmother. _'Or maybe that's just how all decent people behave,' _she thought to herself. There was a reason, after all, that she didn't have any true friends amongst the other families of 'status'; she'd always preferred the company of the scullery maid's daughter and her riding instructor's son; they were obligated to be cordial but had little to gain by faux-friendships. Regina nodded in answer to Snow's question. "My family - only my mother, actually. She made a deal before I was born... she's never told me what she promised."

Emma and Snow exchanged a worried look. This was a wrench they never could have planned for - nor did they even know if 'their' Regina was on balance with Rumplestiltskin, or if she was still in his debt.

"We need to know whatever you know of your mother's deal with Rumplestiltkin," replied August.

Regina thought back to the string of strange appearances of the little gold-flecked man in her life. "If that's that's what you wish. But afterwards, I'm going to need some answers.

"Deal," Emma answered quickly.

Snow nodded in encouragement, lending a hopeful smile Regina's way. It was truly strange. She felt she had roots with these people - some kind of deep connection - yet, couldn't pinpoint the nature of it. It was like the waters of her memory were dammed back - access to the flow stopped. Had she been a parental figure to Snow, despite running away with Daniel? Was it something darker? Had they really had a past together at all, or was the woman before her simply transformed into a shade of Snow's coming adulthood, harboring her memories? Whatever it was seemed to dance and swirl at the back of her memory, fluttering out of reach the moment her mind tried to grasp it. Hopefully, these people would be able to help her capture that inky black stain that weighed down her soul. "Very well. It begins before I was born, so I can't speak for the veracity of the story, but from what I was told..."

Emma, Snow, August, and Henry all leaned forward unconsciously. This wasn't just a story that wasn't in Henry's book. This could very well be the root of everything that culminated into an entire realm being drawn into the most wicked of curses - and possibly held the key to restoring their happy endings once and for all.


	3. Promises Made

**Chapter 3: Promises Made**

A pretty young girl, just shy of her 19th naming day, Cora adjusted her loosely braided chocolate brown hair before shrugging the wooden pail yoke across her shoulders. She settled it into the grooves that had shaped themselves to her form as she grew, just as surely as if they were an extension of her own body; such was the daily rhythm of her life. It was hard work, but it was honest, as her father always said - not like shiftless gypsies or lords corrupted by decadence - and since it was the only kind she'd ever known, Cora couldn't fault his wisdom. Her mother had passed when she was small, just beginning to cut her adult teeth. Her mother had asked only two things of her daughter - the first and last requests she'd ever made - on her deathbed.

_Cora shook her head as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She'd have wiped them away, but she was too scared to unclasp her mother's clammy cold hands for even the briefest moment. Her father was outside, drawing up the cold water from the farm's well as he continued desperately trying to break his beloved wife's fever. "I - I promise Mommy. But only if you get better!"_

_Cora's mother smiled weakly at her daughter's childish attempt to force her to get better. 'Willful as a mule,' she thought to herself. 'Or her father.' She shook her head, the movement barely perceptible, thanks to her weak condition. "If I get better, I won't need your promise - I'd be here to see to it myself." The girl knew her mother was right, realizing how foolish she was being. "Now, do I have your word that you will do those two things?"_

_Cora nodded. "I promise Mama." Her mother squeezed her hand, and only the ghost of those strong, but gentle hands remained; the tears flowed harder._

"_See that you do, my little sparrow... I'll be watching... with you every step of the way." She drew in a ragged breath that rattled in her chest. "Remember the nightingale..." With this message delivered, her hand went slack and the spark in her eye faded and then suddenly snuffed out all together._

_Cora gripped her mother's hand even tighter, but received no response. "Mama? Mama!" She shook her mother's shoulder, tugging on the roughly-hewn fabric of her bedclothes, but only succeeded in causing her mother's head to loll to one side. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Help! Papa! HELP PAPA!" she cried out as loudly as she could. "Anybody! I need help!" Still her mother lay still, and Cora's head dropped to her mother's chest, forehead resting above her heart, and she prayed to any gods or fairies or daemons that would help her. "Mommy..." she mewled softly. "Don't leave me..."_

_The heavy sound of booted footfalls suddenly echoed in the small cabin and Cora whipped her head around when they arrived at the doorway, a look of hope suddenly alight in her face. "Papa! I - I think somethings wrong - she won't wake up! Save her Papa!" But when she saw his face the hope in her own vanished in an instant._

_Her father, the biggest strongest man she'd ever seen, was as white as lamb's wool. All at once his knees buckled, and his hands went slack, sending himself and the wooden bucket of cold water dropping to the floor. He sank down onto his knees, then back onto his heels, as the bucket splashed and overturned. "Papa!" Cora cried. She gave her mother another look before reluctantly letting go of her hand and flung herself at her father. "Papa - are you okay? You have to be okay!" She flung her small arms around his large physique and held him as tightly as she could. "Papa!" she sobbed into his linen shirt. Slowly, she felt his strong, warm arms envelop her, scooping her up into his lap as the cold well water pooled around his legs._

The next morning, Cora's father and two strong young hands from their closest neighbor's farm dug a deep grave at the foot of her mother's favorite spot on their property, and Cora could think of no better place for her mother to rest eternally. The local wise woman had washed her mother's body as this was done, preparing her to return to the soil from which she sprang. When this was finished, she was wrapped in a white sheet of linen, spun from their own flax straw.

Cora had lost her second tooth just days before; her first two prized coppers, left by the Tooth Fairy, went into the ground that day, resting on her mother's eyelids, waiting to buy her passage to the afterlife.

She kept her first promise from that day forward, taking up her mother's duties as best she could, without complaint. Her father never remarried, saying that it was unfair to take another woman into his home if he couldn't take her fully into his heart - and her mother had taken it with her to the afterlife. "You're the only little lady I need now," he'd say._ 'But I need a mother',_ Cora would always think to herself, but never gave the yearning a voice, feeling guilt for even thinking it just the same.

It wasn't long before she blossomed into maidenhood and her father remarked that she had surpassed even her mother's skills in keeping a hearth, farm, and home. Her heart had swelled with a bittersweet pride at the remark, feeling at once guilty, as if she was showing up her mother. "A parent's greatest joy is lifting their child to stand on their shoulders, so that they may reach higher, sparrow," her father had told her. "Surely you remember what your mother told you."

Cora remembered nothing in her life more clearly than her mother's last words to her, of course.

She blinked and squinted as she stepped out of the barn and into the morning sun, milk buckets sloshing about, but never spilling a drop, and trudged back to the cabin. She would be alone until sundown, she suspected, as her father inspected their crops for damage. It had been a pleasantly warm spring this year, and their prospects were looking especially bright this season - that was, until last night. A strange cold snap had fallen over their little valley overnight, one which she could have mistaken for a typical winter solstice evening, if she didn't know better. Flurries of icy snow had blow in, on violent winds, and at dawn, disappeared as quickly as they'd come.

But the damage had been done. Their fields were sewn with a hearty strain of flax, but even it couldn't have come out unscathed by the mysterious cold snap. Instead of dew drops, the fields of seedlings sparkled in the morning sun, captured in tiny crystals of ice. Her father, anticipating this, was out to his fields without a bite of food that morning, determined to save what he could, leaving his daughter to do her best not to fret; distracting herself with any and every chore that needed doing that day.

Indeed, Cora's father had stayed out the entire day, not even coming home for his customary midday meal and lager. It wasn't a good sign. Chores done, she spent the late afternoon digging through their food stores, looking for anything special she might prepare for her father's meal when he came home. It wasn't much, but it was the only gesture she could make at the moment. It wasn't until the sun had dipped behind the eastern mountains that she truly began to worry. He'd never come home after dark in all her memory.

Nonetheless, she continued stirring the hearty chowder of cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and smoked salmon she'd found tucked in the back of the root cellar. The sound of creaking wagon wheels and heavy clop of horse hooves gradually faded in, eventually stopping just outside the small cabin, and Cora shot to her feet. She opened the door to find her father hopping off the back of Winny the Widower's apple cart. He absently knocked the side of the cart after he'd landed, indicating Winny could move on. Sighing, he pulled his wide-brim straw hat off, closed his eyes, and hung his head.

Her father had never looked old to her until that moment. His shoulder's slumped, his arms hung limp at his sides, hat barely still dangling between his fingers. It was as if he'd been deflated and his thinning hair stuck to his forehead in clumps. He rubbed the back of his neck with his meaty workman's hands, then ran it over the back of his head, over the top, and across his forehead. Finally, he sighed again and pulled himself straight, readjusted his hat, and looked up. "Cora!" he exclaimed, "I didn't see ya there..." He tried to keep his voice upbeat but she was too old to be fooled by such bravado anymore.

She took a step backward, out of the doorway, to allow clear passage, and he made his way in and promptly slumped down into his rocking chair. "Are you hungry, Papa?"

"Oh, no, honey. I'm afraid not. I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

"Did you eat at all today?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

He looked up at her and the faintest ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, until finally he answered. "No... I haven't. But I'm not hungry." She immediately began ladling the chowder into a wooden bowl, just as he knew she would, and he shook his head. "More and more like your mother every day..."

"You have to eat - to keep your strength up." She held the bowl out, under his nose, the better to tempt him with it. "It's your favorite!" she added with false cheer.

"Alright, alright..." he mumbled, but after a few bites began to wolf it down hungrily. He stomach grumbled back to life.

Satisfied, Cora ladled a bowl of chowder for herself and promptly tucked into it as well. When they were both finished she retrieved a small loaf of honeybread and divided it into two, handing the larger half to to her father. "So... how did the seedlings look, Papa?"

He sighed heavily and turned the bread over in his hands, staring at it, rather than look her in the eye. "We'll be okay, sparrow. Don't you worry."

"I'm not a little girl anymore," she suddenly snapped petulantly. The day and evening spent worrying had left her temper shorter than she thought possible, and even she was taken aback by her tone.

"Honey-"

"I'm sorry, Papa - I didn't mean to... I just meant that you need to tell me. You can't protect me forever..."

Finally, he looked up and it was the first time she'd ever seen her father cry. Not even when they'd lost her mother. It frightened and saddened her all at once, and she suddenly found that she too way crying despite not knowing what news he had.

"It's all gone," he said quietly. He turned his attention to the small hearth, and its flames flickered in his dark mahogany eyes as he stared. "The ice choked the life out of them..."

"Okay, so we fertilize tomorrow-"

"It's no use, they've lost their foliage - every last one... they can't recover from that any more than a chicken lives without a head."

"So we replant!" she rejoined desperately. "We have seed left - it'll be a lean year, but-"

"You know as well as I that it's too late to plant - they'll never mature in time for the harvest!" his tone was harsh, though his voice remained quiet. "It's all gone, honey."

"There has to be something we can do!" the girl pleaded.

"We can wait. We can hope. But even next year will be tight, Cora." Her father sighed. "You know we get the seed for next year from this year's crops. We're lucky last season was so plentiful... else we'd have no seed at all_ and_ no gold to buy more. We should count our blessings... we have our lives, if simply no gold."

"Or food for winter!" He eyes darted back and forth desperately, wracking her brain for some way to make this all work. "I - I can take in stitching jobs, and we can sell some of Henrietta's butter if we drink less of her milk!"

Her father stared into the fire. "And I will rent out our mill to our neighbors and Lord Alys should he need it. That's where I've been all day, Cora. I must have seen half the county by sundown. No one needs extra hands this season - every farm has been hit, though not as badly as ours - so I cannot sell my labor. But I've struck some deals for trade. We won't starve, but we'll have almost no coppers coming in. What we make from the mill will go to taxes... It will be difficult, probably the most trying times you'll ever see, but we'll survive." He turned, though he still didn't meet her eyes, and his hands drew into fists, as if bracing himself. "But I'm certain we won't have - that is..." He looked up finally, his eyes glistening in the firelight. "I'm so sorry sparrow... I know you were expecting to be able to-"

"The dowry," she interrupted suddenly, finally realizing what news he couldn't bring himself to speak aloud. Her voice was soft and sad, as if she was the one breaking the news to him. "I understand, Papa. We'll need the gold, and the livestock, if we're to survive." As was customary, two years ago her father had begun to put away gold and collect what extra livestock he could to pay tribute to the family that would make his daughter a part of their own. The gods had been kind, as luck would have it, and they'd found themselves with bountiful crops which provided for a bountiful dowry. It truly had been seen as a blessing, because there was not a single young man of marriageable age in the entire county who was not already spoken for.

They had anticipated the need to take a pilgrimage to find Cora a husband, and that required liquid assets. They had sent a letter of intention to the widow matchmaker in the neighboring county and she had sent back word that there were indeed a few excellent matches for the young miller's daughter. Come harvest time, they were planning on spending the winter solstice in the matchmaker's village of Lakewood, and not leaving until they'd found her a husband.

Cora had heard of other regions where marriage was not treated so much like a business contract, and the fantasy of romance titillated her as much as any young maid, but the people here stuck to a strict schedule with such life steps. A girl not married by the age of 21 was looked upon with suspicion, as if some defect must be to blame for her spinsterhood. It was a fact of life that your typical villager didn't give more than a passing thought to. But Cora had never been typical. She had no particular interest in marriage, and made no secret of it.

But why she felt that way was a secret she guarded jealously.

Her father, and family friends, believed it to simply be that she'd seen how devastated her father had been when he'd lost his life mate. That she was afraid to get hurt. And she let them go on thinking that. 'Open your heart, Cora'. 'A life without love is a life squandered.' 'Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.' She'd heard the platitudes many times over since she'd turned 13 and made the mistake of telling her father she didn't want to be married. And yes, seeing what her father had gone through, she was cautious of love - but she didn't fear being hurt enough to push love away. No, it was about keeping her second promise to her mother. And to fulfill that promise, that oath, she couldn't marry the boys that her community had to offer. With one poorer than the next, she would be forever locking herself into the life of a farmer or an artisan, at best. She would have to do better. Even if he were to die young, leaving her a free widow, she would never be able to marry above her station as a widow. Princes and kings were willing to break the rules for a pristine, untouched beauty, but somehow no one's happy ending ever included rescuing a widow and her gaggle of kids from their shoe-sized hovel. They weren't worth the trouble. She'd found it a blessing then that young men were few and far between in her community - necessitating the pilgrimage that just might let her hunt down a man who could facilitate the destiny she'd dreamed.

But that was before this travesty. Her fears of being saddled with a poor, if good, man were demolished on this day. They had made way for a much more feared fate to be built - life as a lonely spinster.

"I'm so sorry, sparrow," her father managed to choke out, his voice heavy with the burden of knowing that his baby's future had very likely been killed in one short night, under a simple bed of snow. Nonetheless, he was going to do whatever he could to ensure his daughter's happiness - even if it meant leaving the farm and striking out for a region that wouldn't look so harshly on a maiden in her twenties.

* * *

Cora would never again live through so trying a season for the rest of her days. The spring itself had not been much different from any other she'd known. They'd replaced the fields immediately outside their house with summer vegetables, which would grow in far more quickly than grains, but that simply meant they wouldn't go hungry until winter. Still, this wasn't he reason for her distress. She'd scrimped and pled no appetite more times in the past two months than she'd done in her entire life. And as usual, though his heart with in the right place, her father was wrong about what was in her heart. Cora truly wasn't trying to save food - she truly wasn't hungry. Imagined scenes of her future nearly drowned her in the momentum of their flow from sun up to sun down.

It was for this reason that she despised the weekly chore of foraging in the nearby woodlands for wild edibles. Berries, mushrooms, root vegetables, and the occasional citrus fruit could be found fairly easily there. What had once been an opportunity for some small bit of independence and a time for daydreams, was now dreaded. It gave her way too much time to think. The inside of her head was a dark place these days, and the best she could manage was to whistle folk songs she'd grown up listening to her father sing. She herself hadn't much of a voice, and though that had never stopped her before, she found herself changing the lyrics into dark mockeries of her situation when she sang now, defeating the entire point of the exercise; she'd quickly concluded it best just to stick to whistling.

Her father had always told her how lucky they were to live so close to the Duke's forest, and her own problems aside, she had to agree. Duke Carroll Alys was a fair, if poor, noble and permitted any of his subjects to forage his woods so as long as they did not poach the wildlife. The agreement saw to it that he need only minimally patrol the woods as no one dared bring down the wrath of his neighbor for causing the privilege rescinded for a single rabbit or even young buck. It had, in fact, engendered a province renown for it's kindness. Should a neighbor, or even pilgrim passing through their land, fall on hard times, need charity Dike Alys' subjects would lend a hand. Though their generosity stemmed from a certain selfish place, in which their charity was based in their interests, the end result was that starvation was nearly nonexistent.

"Ah ha!" cried Cora aloud to herself. She glanced up at the hot sun that broke through the forest canopy for a moment before striding quickly to her destination: an old orchard from the dutchy's more prosperous days. The clementine trees were overgrown now, their canopies bushy and wild, tree's limbs intertwining so it was difficult to tell which branch belonged to which tree - but that didn't make their fruit any less sweet. The brunette gathered up her skirts, pulling the back ones forward and up between her legs, tucking in the excess linens into the front, behind her belt, to create what looked not unlike a man's breeches. She'd never been one for excessively boyish behavior, but it was the only way to climb a tree. She firmly grasped the lower branches and easily hoisted herself aloft; a lifetime of carrying milks pails, bailing hay, and general drudgery of farm life hand left her hands calloused against the rough bark, and her muscles strong. She was nothing compared to farm boys, but was positively muscular compared to the city girls - let alone noble ones. Truth be told, while her rustically tanned skin and strong frame had always embarrassed her when in the company of finer girls, she held some pride in her strength. She knew she could take care of herself, and that was a power none of those women had never known.

A few more branches up she sat on a sturdy branch that was probably as old as she, and began to pluck the sweet orange fruit dangling nearby, tossing them with easy accuracy into her wicker basket below. It wasn't long before Cora's brow beaded with sweat, and the noonday sun had inspired a terrible thirst; she was positively salivating to slake her thirst with one of the juicy little fruits. Shrugging to herself, and seeing only one more clementine in her reach, she picked it. A quick squeezed reaffirmed its ripe appearance and she whistled 'Maiden in the Mor Lay', a short little ditty she'd found herself coming back to often lately, and she peeled. The melancholy notes drifted across the treetops alone, her rusting about in the trees having scared off any birds that may have joined her, the song becoming disjointed as it was interrupted each time she popped a new slice into her mouth.

It was during one of these pauses that she suddenly heard a knocking coming from the trunk of her tree. She looked down and was startled to see a young man dressed in fine garb not entirely suited to tromping off the beaten path in a forest. She quickly swallowed, and unsure of what the etiquette was for curtsying from the trees, deciding that it least addressing him would be the first step opened her mouth, but snapped it shut again as the man quickly held a finger up to his lips. She mouthed a hasty 'Sorry, my lord' to him.

He nodded curtly before glancing about him. Satisfied by whatever he'd observed, he carefully, though a bit clumsily, hoisted himself up the first few branches, making his way up to Cora, who was suddenly hoping that she makeshift breeches were properly tucked. As he settled next her, Cora realized this was the closest she'd ever been to a person of nobility and quickly bowed her head down, averting her eyes. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but study him as he seemed to be listening for something.

He was built stockily, almost more like she imagined a dwarf. His frame was not overly built, but meaty; the type of strength that usually went to fat as a man entered middle age. His baby fine, nutmeg brown hair stuck in short curls to a forehead a bit too far back for someone his age, and while he was not short of breath he had clearly been exerting himself for at least a few hours. It occurred to her that this is what she imagined a young bulldog might look like were it turned human and hid a small smile behind the back of her hand. Still, he was not an unattractive young man, and his neatly trimmed goatee, coupled with the fine clothes, gave him a certain dashing flair. It was then that she noticed the clasp pining together the collar of his coat. It was made from gold, real she was sure, and was the most finely crafted representations of four hares in an interlocking circular pattern - the Alys family crest. Only members of the family were permitted to wear the insignia. Which meant he must be- "Whaaa!" Cora cried out as distracted by her revelations she'd forgotten herself and leaned forward - a bit too far forward - and tumbled off balance.

She barely had time to register that she was about to faceplant to her doom before a pair of strong hands in leather gloves caught her wrists, halting her plunge. She instinctively locked her hand's around his forearms before craning her neck back to look at his face. His brow was knit, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she managed to get out, the awkward position of her body weight compressing her ribcage and therefore difficult to get more than a gasp of air._ 'No thanks to your oafish intrusion, '_ she thought in annoyance. She'd never understand why so many royals had more gold than manners even though they could easily afford both. After all, were they not called nobles for a reason? If she 8 an aristocrat, she'd consider her role as something to aspire to and set a regal example for her subjects. Her mother had once lamented to her father that children of the aristocracy only showed the courtesy of politeness to their betters because they were comfortable and lazy. Once you forget ambition, ambition forgets you. You always had to be hungry for more. Where would salmon be if they simply stopped swimming forward? They and their offspring would eventually be washed out of the pool and downstream. If your trajectory wasn't upward you were failing.

The young man gave her a smile and nodded. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I seem to have inadvertently to put you in danger, miss...?"

"Help me down!" she relied tersely. "I'd rather not break my neck."

His eyebrows shot up as it seemed to dawn on him that she was still dangling. "Oh, my! Sorry." He slowly lowered her. "There's a sturdy branch next to your right foot. Simply rest your weight on it and tell me when you're safe."

Cora fumbled around, feeling for the branch with her foot, and tested its sturdiness through the soft leather of her shoe. Satisfied with its safety she nodded. "Go ahead." He gently released his grip and transferred her weight from his hands to the branch below. Once both her feet were firmly only the forest floor she quickly unfolded her skirts and lowered herself into a deep curtsy. Whatever she thought of him, he was still royalty and as her mother had always told her, you never know what may result from a first impression, so better make it a good one.

A pair of black soft leather boots landed a foot in front of her nose, but she kept her eyes to the ground. "Please," the young man's said kindly. Cora, not sure if that was a please don't bow or something else, simply stayed in position, contemplating her best move. She her a quiet chuckle. "Then you leave me no choice but to join you," he said jovially and Cora was surprised to see his boots cross each other into the distinctive position of a cursty. And, sure enough, he bent his knees and squatted, arms extended. Finally, unable to stop herself she peered upwards, though her head remained down, and found herself locked in a gaze with the odd young man, whose eyes sparkled with a laughter. She quickly averted her eyes down, only to find her chin met with one of his fingers soon under her chin, gently pressing it upwards. "Please, no lady should bow before a man who nearly caused her grievous injury just moments prior."

Cora blinked, but drew herself back up, glad for any excuse out of the groveling position she felt obligated to take, rather than any real respect she felt. The first man in this boy's family that had pulled himself up above his peers - he deserved respect; but not his descendants, who were simply lucky. As the young man also drew himself upright, she nodded her head nonetheless. "I am no lady, sir."

He cocked his head to one side, seemingly thinking about this statement more than it warranted. "No..." he said slowly, "I should think you're a nightingale, free from her curse."

This was about the last thing she expected from his lips, but was taken aback, for only one other person had ever called her as such. And how does one respond to such a strange comment - was he simply joking? "I - I, uh..."

"It was you I heard in the trees, wasn't it? The song ceased when I came upon you, and did not resume even when we were both still."

"Well, yes, I suppose it was I that you heard, but," replied Cora.

The young man smiled, but didn't wait for her explanation, as he suddenly seemed relieved. "Ah! Wonderful! I was afraid I might not fight a nightingale in time!"

"In time for what?" she blurted out.

"In time to save my father, of course!" he replied.

'_Yes, of course to save your father,'_ thought Cora sarcastically._ 'Because the world revolves around you and all simply must know when tragedy befalls your house. No one else ever has any problems...'_

The young royal, seeming to take her silence as acknowledgement, stepped forward and took one of her hands. "And what luck - in human form! Quickly! You must come with me at once. There's no time to waste!" He spun, her hand still in his, as if to take off; Cora drew her hand back beside herself.

"Human form? My mother told me I'd be a nightingale as a woman, but I am no cursed beast!" she cried. She quickly slapped her hands over her mouth. If her mother could see her now - disrespectful to a noble!

"But the song I heard was so beautiful and yet... so sad." He met her gaze. "Much like your eyes."

Somehow she found herself both blushing and irritated simultaneously. He'd some how seen something in her even her father has missed - but what right has he to say such a personal thing? Irritation won out. "I'm perfectly well!" she snapped. "And that song was nothing like a nightingale's."

"My apologies - I didn't mean to offend. But I shall not apologize for calling you a lady. I've always believed that comportment made the lady - not their station."

'_Easy for you to say,'_ Cora thought to herself bitterly, instead saying, "Thank you, m'lord...?"

He bowed before settling on the trunk of a fallen oak where he began to pull his gloves off, finger by finger. "My proper title is Lord Henry Alys the Younger, Earl of Grimholde. But you can call me Henry," he added with a smile. "And what is your name my lady?"

"Cora, m'lord," she replied with a curtsy.

Henry shook his head. "Enough of that, miss Cora. I haven't the time to waste on such pleasantries in my search. Once I have lightened my load, I must move on. Now, please, make yourself comfortable." He unclasped his frock coat and shrugged the heavy garment off. His fine linen shirt was soaked with perspiration, and which was also starting to seep into his waistcoat. "It's quite warm today."

"As you wish... Henry," Cora replied hesitantly.

Henry flashed her a smile. "If only my courtiers could learn to address me as I wish so quickly."

"Well, we're alone in the forest; I needn't worry about whether other lords may take offense at such address," replied Cora her nerves settling with her as she draped her skirts on a large mossy rock.

"I suppose so," he replied. He pulled a small leather flask and a kerchief from his hip pouch, pouring water over the cloth. "I must look quite the fool, traipsing among the wood in such a costume."

She raised her eyebrows sardonically. "As you say so, Henry."

"I know - I shan't deny that I live a life sheltered enough that I do not even seem to know the proper garb for true wilderness. It's why I insisted taking on this responsibility."

"And what would that be, if I may ask?"

"My father has fallen deathly ill. And while he is aged, I do not feel ready to lead. Father says my uncertainty is a sign that I will make a thoughtful, good ruler, I'm afraid I-"

"- have no such faith in your abilities," said Cora, finishing his thought.

Henry nodded. "I was going to say simply need more time, but yes, I suppose that could be it." He laughed. "You see, I'd rather follow than lead!" He shook his head. "In any case, he has been getting worse for months, and no physician had been able to help, so we released a call across the kingdom for a soothsayer. As luck would have it, one was peddling his service not just a village over and came at once. He says that the only thing that will save my father is a special tea, made from the blossoms of a forgotten love, which he must drink while listening to the most beautiful song in all the land - that of the nightingale." He sighed. "I have been searching all day and have found neither. When I heard your song, I thought I had found the bird, at least."

Cora nodded. "Well, as far as your blossom of forgotten love, I think I may be able to help." She stood up and crossed behind him to another tree from the abandoned orchard and gestured at the trunk. A heart containing the message 'SA + LFO' was carved into the bark. It was clearly quite old, and barely legible.

"I don't understand," replied Henry.

Cora broke off a small, still green twig of a branch that was sprouting not far from the carving and handed it to the young lord. "Even if that love is still remembered, I think I'm the only one who still remembers this orchard, which surely must have been the love of its gardener, if nothing else. These blossoms make a wonderful tea in any case..."

Henry took the twig and examined it for a moment before storing it safely in his hip pouch. "Then I am in your debt," he replied genuinely. "Surely, a beautiful and wise girl such as yourself, who sings the nightingale's songs, knows where to find one," he stated.

Cora chuckled. "Certainly - they just sit on my windowsill listening to my songs while I spin my father's straw into gold!" she said with a laugh. Nightingales were rarely seen in this part of the kingdom, and, as their names implied, only came out at night in any case. His entire tale sounded like some impish gypsy was looking to line his pockets with a some extra gold by weaving a task impossible to accomplish, but she knew better than to call the Henry or Duke Alys a fool to his face. She also guessed the palace court had taken the same tact; when he failed at his task, Henry didn't have to worry about taking the blame like a servant would. "Alas, my father's flax crop was destroyed by that cold snap, so I have nothing to spin," she added with an exaggerated sigh. "Otherwise I'd simply bring them to you!"

Henry gave her a confused look but quickly nodded. "You must enjoy living simply if you can spin flax straw to gold - quite admirable."

"Oh,_ yes,_ who needs fine food and elegant dances when you have a full belly and a yearly hog faire?" she replied with a sarcastic smirk.

"Indeed. More people would be happy if they could take such values to heart. I know my family is hardly destitute, but we are poor in the eyes of other aristocrats. Still, we're happy." Henry's face fell. "At least until recently. I suppose it was too much to ask that you should have everything I require." He got to his feet. "I should get on in my search."

Had he not understood her sarcasm? Surely not... should she say something? He seemed kind enough , but so did a bully until he decides he doesn't like you. "I, uh..."

"Yes?"

Cora quickly picked up her basket and help it out. "Would you care for a snack for your journey? They produce the most delicious fruit!"

Henry smiled and nodded . "How gracious of you! That sounds terrific about now. I knew you were a lady," he added with a wink. "But I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't offer something in return." He picked up his frock coat from the log, removed the clasp bearing his family crest, and draped it over Cora's outstretched arm, exchanging it for two ripe clementine oranges.

Cora shook her head. "Oh! No, no, I can't! It's far too much for two pieces of fruit that you could simply pick from another tree!"

Henry shook his head. "But not too much for my father's health. With any luck I shall find the bird I seek - they must be plentiful if a group gathers whenever you whistle. Besides, you said your father's crop has failed. As your lord, it is my duty to help my people," he added with a gentle smile and gave her a quick bow of his head. "I'm sure it will fetch a fine price in town, and I don't relish the thought of carrying it the rest of the day in this heat. But I really must be off." He turned, and began to head into the under brush.

Cora stood in amazement. Never had she received so fine a gift - well, certainly more personal and thoughtful, but never one worth so much. Finally, she found her voice. "But - but- Henry!" she called after him.

He turned around. "Yes, my lady Cora?"

"There aren't any..." her voice caught in her throat. If she told him now, he'd surely take back his coat, and if they played it right, it just might bring enough at market to get them through winter - or maybe her dowry instead. In any case, the duke is old and bound to pass away soon enough as it was. Henry was probably on a fool's errand anyway. She swallowed hard, the rationalization weighing heavily in her gut. "There aren't any in that direction. They, uh, prefer the edges of the forest, near water. And keep your eyes at the scrub brush - nightingales prefer bushes to trees."

His eyes twinkled. "If my nightingale says so, then it must be so! Rest assured, the gods will reward your grace!" With that, he continued on his way, picking at the second clementine's peel as he disappeared into the foliage.

A strange, tingling energy filled her chest at this last exchange, but whether it was the result of what Henry had said, or what he had given her that day, she would never be able to say. Whatever the case, a broad smile didn't leave her face the rest of the day. Perhaps she would be able to keep her promise to her mother after all.

* * *

"When my mother returned from the Duke's forest that evening, she relayed her story to my grandfather, showing him the fine coat she'd been given, and they immediately-" The glass doors to Emma's office swung open violently, interrupting Regina's story, and a young man of perhaps 20 came storming in.

His thick shock of orange hair was mussed, giving him a wild look to match his frenzied voice. "Sheriff! Queen Snow! Come quick!"

Emma grabbed the young man by the shoulders, stopping his manic pace. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Reign it in and take a breath!"

The redhead grit his teeth, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Satisfied, Emma put her hands on her hips, resting her weight nonchalantly on her right foot. "Good. Now, what's the emergency, Pete?"

"It's the Lost Boys!" he replied urgently.

Emma nodded. _'Of course it is_,' she thought.


	4. Lost and Found I

******Author's Note:**Believe it or not, I'd this planned before the ComicCon announcement. So... go me?

******Chapter 4:**** Lost and Found I**

"When my mother returned from the Duke's forest that evening, she relayed her story to my grandfather, showing him the fine coat she'd been given, and they immediately-" The glass doors to Emma's office swung open violently, interrupting Regina's story, and a young man, of perhaps 20, came storming in. His thick shock of orange hair was mussed, giving him a wild look to match his frenzied voice. "Sheriff! Queen Snow! Come quick!"Emma grabbed the young man by the shoulders, stopping his manic pace. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Reign it in and take a breath!" The redhead grit his teeth, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Satisfied, Emma put her hands on her hips, resting her weight nonchalantly on her right foot. "Good. Now, what's the emergency, Pete?"

"It's the Lost Boys!" he replied urgently. Emma nodded.** '**_Of course it is_,' she thought. With the return of the memories of hundreds of fairytale realm citizens, many of whom were extraordinary people, Storybrooke had gone from a sleepy hamlet to a bustling hive of misadventure. The return of magic, especially, seemed to be at the root of the problems, as people tried to regain what they'd lost on their own; most didn't believe they'd ever return to their homeland, making the temptation to use magic as a means to an end a daily headache for Emma, who already had more than enough on her plate. If it weren't for the seven dwarfs, which she couldn't believe was already feeling like a normal thought, acting as her deputies, she would have been completely overwhelmed. The Lost Boys had become particularly troublesome as they were the embodiment of pure boyish mischief, and had not only refused to listen to any adults in authority since waking up, but had also lived up to their storybook reputations, escaping capture time and time again.

Henry had laid out their identities to Emma months ago after talking with them at school one day. The happy ending of Peter Pan was supposed to be Wendy taking the boys home where they grew up in a loving family, while Peter and Tink lived out their days in a land of eternal youth, taking each generation of the Darling family off on adventures, until they too grew too old.

Their Storybooke fate couldn't have been any farther removed from that. Under the curse they lived as the Puck brothers, being raised in a single parent household with their absentee mother, Faye, the town cougar, known for chasing every guy who took her fancy and dumping them when she got bored. At some point, after a particularly broad prank that had resulted in city-wide blackout, Dr. Hopper had recommended she enroll the brothers in the Big Brother program, hoping the addition of a stable male role model might temper the boys precocious tendencies. Their assigned big brother, one Piers Faun, was trapped in a stale marriage with a wealthy young socialite, and had signed up with program simply as a way to have fun that his wife deemed 'a worthy use of time'. Piers, luckily, had managed to channel the Puck brother's energy into more constructive activities - earning merit badges with the Storybrooke Woodland Scouts, among other things, until the curse broke, anyway. Now that the curse was broken, they'd torn a path through Storybrooke, with Faye, also know as Tinkerbell, egging them on. Peter Pan had been doing his best to reign them in, but since he'd grown up, they looked on him as they did any other adult.

"What's happened?" asked Snow.

"There's no time, your Highness! Follow me, and I'll explain on the way!" Without waiting for a response, Pete turned and flew back out the door. The group in the station quickly followed on his heels, with Regina taking up the rear, having been unsure if following might break some sort of etiquette, but much less comfortable being left on her own in such an unfamiliar land. "They were trying to fly - they didn't believe me when I said there was no fairy dust in this realm, but Tink, being Tink, insisted that Pixie Sticks were made up of the stuff." He spun on his heel. and continued to walk just as quickly and surely, but backwards, displaying the kind of nimble agility and surefootedness the stories described. "Look, the details aren't important. The boys somehow managed to climb their way to the top of the library clock tower and they're going to test this little theory any second!"

"Can't you just climb up there and talk them out of this?" asked Emma.

"They took to my lessons in Neverland a little too much, I'm afraid," replied Pete.

"But you're still their... gang leader, or whatever, right? Just tell them Tink is playing a trick, or get her to tell them or something!" suggested August. Taking responsibility and leadership didn't come naturally to him, but the moment he woken up he'd vowed to stay by Emma's side for whatever she needed and he felt particularly obligated to take the load when it came to fairy tale matters. She didn't seem partial to dealing with magic - and even less so with matters of true love and destiny; life had left her incredibly cynical towards such earnest concepts. He could understand her discomfort in dealing with it - this world had left him in much the same state - but his promise was the vow of a man, not a child, this time and he meant to keep it.

Emma shook her head. "He's an adult, and all grown-ups are pirates."

"And all Lost Boys kill pirates," added Henry.

"What?" asked August. "Since when?"

"Haven't you ever seen 'Hook'?" asked Emma. August's only response was a raised eyebrow and a dubious look. "What? I ___did _have a childhood, you know - and what orphan doesn't wanna run away to Neverland?" At this last statement, August's eyes flashed with a strangely guilty look, but he said nothing.

"It _is _kind of a modern classic," Snow couldn't help adding. "Even Storybrooke has a movie theater – just _where __were _you all this time?" she asked teasingly.

"Traveling," he huffed as the group picked up its pace as they neared the clock tower. "Or Cockaigne, like I told Emma, when I wasn't."

Snow shot him a glance. "Literally or figuratively?" she asked. She, like Emma, had found it hard to find any time to herself in the week since the curse had broken, and what little she'd had she'd spent with her family. While she trusted Pinocchio's heart, she still wanted answers about the mysterious man who'd once abandoned her daughter, only to take such an interest in her as an adult. But any answer August might have offered was preempted as the group came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the boarded up library. A small group had gathered around, muttering amongst themselves, many watching the scene like it was some kind of street performance. "Excuse us!" Snow called out, and seeing who was talking, the crowd quickly made way for Snow, Emma, and the rest. Regina was grateful that she received few looks this time, likely because of the commotion above.

A group of five boys, ranging in ages from 6 to 12, stood atop the Storybrooke library, all clad in their scout uniforms, which they'd cut up, painted, or otherwise altered to better fit their attire in Neverland. Some looked like they'd taken markers to their skin, drawing pseudo-native symbols on their face, arms, or chest. They had congregated on various platform levels of the tower holding the clock. One pair, twins, seemed to be engaged in an endless game of rock, paper, scissors, while the younger two played at sparring with sticks like swordsman - scaring the life out of the adults below as when they'd occasionally slip on a loose, rotten roof shingle. The eldest boy stood atop the peak of the clock tower, hanging off the lightening rod at the top of the brick red dome, seemingly surveying his intended flight path.

Pete cupped his hands around his mouth. "Rufio!" he bellowed as loudly as he could.

The four other boys simply responded with a chant. "Ru-fi-o! Ru-fi-o! Ru-fi-oooo!" to which the twelve year old responded with a loud whoop.

Pete turned back to the group and let out an exasperated sigh. "I told you - they won't listen. It's like Emma said; grow-ups are pirates. Well, grown-up men, anyway."

"What about grown-up women?" asked Emma, an idea suddenly taking shape in her mind.

Pete thought back. "It's... hard to remember. We already lived in a land stuck in time, where we'd forgotten our parents, and that was before the curse. Since its been broken, and me being made an adult, and the boys losing their memories of their life after Neverland... it's like my brain is made of swiss cheese; a big jumble. Theirs are too, but they're just kids. They haven't been able to get a grasp on that fact yet."

Snow nodded. "A lot of children are having difficulty dealing with two sets of memories. I can only imagine what it's like for your boys," she offered. She knew many of the children in town, thanks to her life as a school teacher, and this unexpected aspect of the curse had been the most troubling to her by far. Reunions with rightful parents, and separating from the false ones, had been a roller-coaster of unpredictability for many families, and it was becoming clear that some kind of joint custody would have to be worked out. Then there were kids like the Lost Boys, orphans placed with parents whose punishment was ___having _children. Those kids had no one to turn to, and 'parents' who'd wanted little to do with them when they were under the curse, and nothing, now that they were free of familial obligations. The fairies had stepped up, creating a pseudo-orphanage at the nunnery, with Granny providing meals, but Snow agreed with Emma when she'd expressed concerns about a long-term solution.

"Do you think they'd trust Henry?" asked Emma.

The redhead shook his head. "He's younger and smaller than Rufio. No offense," he offered to the boy.

Henry just shrugged good-naturedly. "Hey, he's two grades ahead of me! I'd be the freak if he wasn't!"

"If he could best Rufio in swords, or crow, or... " he let out a tired laugh. "_fly_... he'd have a chance. But that's the problem, here isn't it? They refuse to believe ___they can't _fly, either." He paused, looking up at the boys wistfully. "I'll never be their Pan again; that's Rufio now. They were supposed to go home with Wendy..."

"Where is she?" asked Emma.

"I have no idea. If her memory is as full holes confusing as mine? She may not have any idea who she is. Storybrooke is small, but it's not ___that _small, so unless sh___e_," he directed this pointedly at Regina, who reflexively took a step back at the gesture, once again frightened and bewildered by a stranger's attitude toward her. What had she done? Pete continued, oblivious to her reaction, "- took a poll and made a phonebook with our true names in it, I don't even know where to begin."

"Would they listen to her?" asked Snow.

Pete thought for a moment. "Maybe. It's worth a shot..." He looked back up at the boys and let loose an ear splitting whistle. It was the one thing that reigned them in during the curse, and it at least seemed to get their attention now.

Rufio squatted like a bird, feet planted one opposing curves of the domed roof and shouted down. "Take off old man, before we show you how we take care of pirates!"

"I have Wendy!" Pete shot back.

Rufio cocked his head to one side as the other boys whispered excitedly amongst themselves. "And you would have us rescue her? That sounds like a fine game!"

Pete shook his head. "No, no, she's here and she'd... like to be your mother.. like the before times!" At this news, all the boys peered over the ledge, fingers curled around the edge of the weather-warped wooden tiles. They seemed to be studying the group. "Come down and meet her - she simply wishes to give you sweets!" He placed a hand on Snow's shoulder.

"Are you blind old man? 'Cause if you are, I could steal Smee's spectacles for a price!" shouted Rufio.

"What do you mean?" called back Pete.

"That's the Queen, Snow White!" he replied, and the adult exchanged worried looks. "Wendy is behind you, next to the Sheriff!"

The assembled group murmured in surprise, but none was more so than Regina, herself. Her mouth hung half open as if to protest somehow, but she honestly didn't know what to say. Clearly, she was the only one present who had never heard of Lost Boys and Pans, why they thought they could fly, and certainly not whomever this Wendy person was. Whether they could see it on her face or not, she didn't know, but whatever the case it didn't stop Emma from asking. "Do you think you can pull this off?" the blond asked.

"Pull ___what__ o_ff?" Regina asked in a hushed, anxious whisper.

"Be Wendy," she replied simply.

Regina shook her head. "I don't know - I don't even know who this Wendy person is! Why would they think I'm her? Shouldn't she be a child?"

"Not in their eyes," answered Pete. "She was a young lady, not quite a woman, but in a Neverland boy's eyes she was. I brought her to Neverland to be our mother. And so she was to be with them... how could we have been taken to Storybrooke and you_not _know this?"

"Let's just say that if your brain is swiss cheese, hers may as well be curds and whey," answered August.

"This ___isn't_the time," Snow said in a tone that made it more a decree than a plea. It wouldn't do to open up a line of questioning that would surely send Regina into a spiral the moment she found out what she was responsible for inflicting. She turned back to her former step-mother, hoping to distract her from putting any pieces together from what Peter had said. Snow placed a hand on Regina's shoulder and locking her green-eyed gaze with the other woman's brown one. She couldn't help flashing back to all the times they'd been in such a position in the past, but it struck her as especially strange to be in possession of the harder gaze, staring down the innocent one. "Listen, I know this is asking a lot of you. I know you're feeling pretty lost and confused - so are those boys up there. But I also know you're one of the most capable women I've ever met; even if you don't remember anything else you've ever done, you ran down my horse and rescued me. Now those boys up there need help, and you're their best bet."

Regina shook her head, "No, I'm not... I ca-"

"That's your mother talking. Right now, I know you better than you know you, and_ I _believe in you," she said firmly, but warmly. Snow surprised herself with the admonition, but she was finding it progressively more difficult to think of this woman and Queen Regina as one in the same. The veil that had fallen over the woman's eyes after Daniel's death wasn't there anymore, and seeing her with the eyes of an adult who had seen too much herself... there was a vulnerability she wouldn't have believed existed before this day.

Regina blinked. How did Snow know anything about what her mother said? Yes, she'd grown up with her mother always criticizing, telling her she couldn't do anything right, but how did ___Snow_know that? She felt like she was going to scream if she didn't get some answers soon. And now here was this woman, once again showing her more maternal kindness than her own mother had her entire life, who was still strangely a child in her mind. Still, Snow had been called Queen more than once - she was a ruler. And only the third person in her life, behind her father and Daniel, to show faith in her abilities. She glanced back up at the boys, who seemed to be discussing some kind of plan, pointing at the horizon, clearly ready to jump soon.

"I believe in you too," said the young boy, Henry, and he squeezed her hand a moment for emphasis. A warmth blossomed in her heart, despite not knowing who the boy who carried her father's name was; somehow his faith meant something huge.

At once, Regina knew what she should, no ___had__, _to do. "Ok... what do I need to know?"

"If that's really Wendy, she'll be able to fly up here," Rufio called out, tired of waiting for the adults to finish whatever boring adult things they were doing. "And... give me a kiss. Like she gave Peter!" he added as an afterthought.

"Is this a rescue or a hostage negotiation," remarked Emma under her breath.

"It can't be both?" shot back August.

Regina took a step forward, putting herself at the head of the group and drew up on years of etiquette training her mother had forced her to endure so she'd know how to present herself confidently and regally to aristocracy. "Peter tells the truth - you cannot fly, and neither can I. Tink is simply playing pixie tricks on you!" She glanced back at the group, who all gave her approving nods. "If you come down... I could give you a kiss, though!" she called back up, giving the group a shrug.

Rufio sat down, folding his legs around the lightening rod, planted his elbows at the crook of his knees, and rested his head between the backs of his hands, in an overly dramatic exhibition of thought. After a minute or so he sprang back to his feet. "Coming down is no fun! And _Wendy _was fun! Wanna play a game, Miss Wendy?" he called down.

Regina turned back to the group, looking for input. Pete nodded emphatically. "That should get you his trust," he told her in a hushed tone.

Regina turned back around to look up at the head Lost Boy. "Ok, I'll play. What's the game?"

"Find your way up here! Even Wendy could climb. So, come up and bring me a kiss! If you make it up, I'll believe you about Tink. If you don't, we fly without you! You have a ten minutes, starting... NOW!" He slapped his hands together, wearing a self-satisfied grin.

Regina turned around. "Can those little urchins even tell time?" Her words were something Emma would have expected out of the evil queen, but tone wasn't one of malice. More like concern interlaced with annoyance, which she could sympathize with.

Pete shrugged. "I'm not sure. If it was a digital clock, I'd say yes, but analog..."

"Likely not," answered Snow. "We only spend a day on telling time by hands in school these days, and with confused as their memories are... of course, that means they may believe they can tell time and mistakenly think ten minutes have elapsed before they actually have."

"We won't need it," replied Emma. "The... mayor showed me how to get inside during that event last week. There's got to be an access ladder from the inside to get to the bells." She turned to Regina. "C'mon, I'll show you the way." Regina hesitated for just a moment, but then nodded. She didn't know who this Emma was, but Snow clearly trusted her implicitly, and despite the sharp tongue she directed at Regina, she seemed to be kind at heart.

"Wait! You'll need this!" Pete called after them. He dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a small metallic object, which he tossed to Regina. She caught the silver object, surprised to find a well-word thimble in her hand.

"What's this for?" asked Regina.

A wistful look passed over the young man's green eyes. "A kiss, of course."


	5. Lost and Found II

**Author's Notes: **BTW folks, if there's a situation or character you'd like to see make an appearance, leave a note in the reviews and I'll do my best to include it, if it fits.

Thanks for the fave, follows, and especially the reviews! Your input is truly appreciated, and I just wish so many weren't from guest users - else I'm pm you a thanks.

To **Evil Regal**: Her appearance remains the same - that's why she freaked out especially hard at seeing herself. Her memory has simply been wiped. Physically, she's the same. I have referred to her as her 'past self' a few times simply because mentally, she is.

To the guest user who mentioned the vampiric Lost Boys: Ha! That's a crossover that would truly turn this into a crack fic!

To the one who wondered why this doesn't have more reviews: lol, I'd ask the same thing, but that would be conceited ;) This new system that lets us see how many follows and faves a story has is just another way to drive authors crazy when you see another story with a hundred reviews, but less follows/faves than your own. Too much info breeds green-eyed monsters ;)

**Chapter 5: Lost and Found II**

A wistful look passed over the young man's green eyes. "A kiss, of course."

A smirk played over Emma's lips. As insane as she'd suddenly found her life, there were little details like this that she couldn't help but find charming - and gave her a little more hope for the future she didn't yet care to dwell on. At Regina's mystified expression she offered a quick, "I'll explain on the way," over her shoulder, coming to a halt at the front door and examined the attached padlock. The chain was wrapped around the door handles, but the lock itself wasn't secured. She shook her head. "Figures..." She dropped the lock, which Regina could now see was open, and hadn't actually been securing anything.

"You and the mayor neglect to lock up after your escapade?" asked Regina.

Emma gave her a strange look, and nodded. "Yeah... we kind of had to get out of here in a hurry. Anyway, at least we know how they got in..." She swung the door open and beckoned Regina through the door. "_Ladies_ first, right?" she said with a sarcastic smirk.

'_Perhaps she simply holds royals in disdain?'_ Regina thought to herself, and her mother's voice echoed in her head _'Ladies ride side-saddle. Ladies titter like sparrow - not guffaw like donkeys. Ladies never miss their teatime.' _And then her father's soft, loving voice._ 'A lady is a lady by her character alone; not her comportment - not her station'_. A lifetime of memories of her mother lecturing her flashed in her mind, and as always, sent her heart running back to her father's values.

Regina smiled. It was tight, but not unpleasant. "Then by all means, after you," she replied, without a sense of condescension, and it left Emma off-balance again, as this Regina parried, rather than thrust, in a spar of words. And suddenly, she felt like the bully in this exchange, wondering what had happened in her life to turn this girl into the Regina she knew.

Emma returned the polite smile and nodded before entering the building, though she held the door open from the inside. There was no need to come off as passive aggressive. She flipped the lights on once Regina was through the portal, the fluorescent lights taking a moment to come to full brightness. The brunette took in the room, and its strange wall of small labeled drawers, its papered-over windows, and wall dominated by some kind of mirror, crafted into the silhouette of an apple tree against a starfield. The not-enchanted lights gave a stark, cold tint to the room, despite it being mostly covered in a facade of cherry wood. "What is this place, anyway?"

Emma bit back her smart remark, despite wishing for a moment that mayor Regina could have seen her younger self echo the same statement she had bitten Emma's head off for making so recently. "It's supposed to be the town library, but the mayor seemed to have used it for a less... wholesome storage purpose." She came to a stop at the right hand side of the mirror and pressed her palm to the glass where Regina's week-old hand smudge remained. After a moment, she removed it, and then repeated the action, before frowning. "Come here."

"Why?" Regina asked suspiciously.

Emma sighed. "I think you need to put your hand here." Suddenly, she realized the request might raise more questions that they didn't have time to answer. "It's a two man job," she added quickly. "I think."

Regina nodded and complied, placing her hand where Emma's had been, after the blond slid her hand aside. She jumped as the wall began to move, the clacking of a rusty chain filling the room with its mechanical voice. Inside was what appeared to be a giant version of the dummy waiter devices her servants used to transport plates and other small objects between floors in her family's estate house. "Are we supposed to ride this thing?"

Emma shook her head. "No. I don't know how to operate it," she answered, peering down the shaft at the still-stranded elevator car.

"What then?"

"We climb up," answered Emma, as she shifted her gaze up the shaft. "Ah-ha!" She pointed at what looked to Regina's eyes as a ladder of questionable safety. "Afraid of heights?"

The brunette's eyes flashed with defensive pride. "Of course not!"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Just to be fair, I'll let you in on a little secret - I can tell when people are lying."

Regina rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Ok, maybe a little. But that's a sensible fear," she rationalized. "I'm not some delicate flower who faints at the sight of a mouse."

'_Regina admitting to a weakness? Maybe this cold front is just hell freezing over,' _thought Emma. "That ladder should take us up to the clock tower. If my hunch is right, it should connect to that little alcove just below the clock. Good thing you're not in heels, madam m-" she clamped her mouth shut as she realized her near slip, and hoped Regina would take it for simply a long 'm'. Regina didn't seem to notice. "After you." Regina looked up the shaft skeptically. "I'm gonna have to insist this time. If it exits at the alcove, you'll have to step out first, so they don't see me. Plus, I can catch you if you fall."

"Lucky me," replied Regina before, to Emma's surprise, taking a steadying breath and beginning the ascent. Once Regina had climbed a body length up, Emma followed behind.

"What do I say?" asked Regina after a moment of silent climbing.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you. Just think of me as your Cyrano."

"My what?"

"I'll relay what you need to say," the blonde clarified. "I know the Lost Boys pretty well." She thought back to the plentiful and extreme differences between the fairy tale characters she'd grown up reading about versus their real-life equivalents. "I think."

"Could you stop doing that?" grumbled Regina testily.

"Doing what?"

"Second-guessing yourself. You're the one who knows this world and you keep making me feel like it's the blind leading the blind, here," she answered. "Haven't you ever heard of false bravado?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, if you're going to be a leader - and believe me, I've had this drilled into my head by the best teachers available to the kingdom - you have to know how to give the impression that you know exactly what you're doing. Honest ambivalence and guileless facts are for behind closed doors, with council. Once you've made your decision, you stick by it with your troops. If you don't, you'll not only look weak - you'll inspire fear, rather than courage. Clearly people in this town look to you for guidance; you need to appreciate that responsibility."

'_Did Regina just seriously offer me honest, helpful advice? Scanning for passive aggression... it's clear!'_ thought Emma. "I'll... keep that in mind. Thanks."

As they scaled the final level, Regina came to a sudden stop, causing Emma to almost knock her head into Regina's riding boots. "May I ask you something?" requested Regina.

"Uh... sure. I guess. Can't promise I can answer, though."

"What's Snow to you?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"She seems to trust you - almost dote on you. Why?"

"Well..." she cleared her throat nervously. It wasn't something Regina could possibly logically tie back to herself. And magic in her land had caused all kinds of outlandish situations. A lie now could breed mistrust down the line, and as long as Regina stayed like this, the more likely she was to find out anyway. Better not to damage her trust so early on. Evil Queen or royal maiden, how Regina would react was a wild card she'd rather avoid playing with. "She's my mother..."

Regina looked down and over her shoulder at the blond. "Truthfully?" Emma nodded. "But she looks no older than you." Had more time than she'd initially guessed have passed?_ 'But then, that would make me over 60 years old. I looked older, but that's hardly what I saw in the mirror.'_ "Did Snow use some kind of enchantment on herself?" _'And me,' she _added silently to herself.

Emma considered her possible response. "She didn't use any youth potion or something is that's what you're asking. But... it _was_ the result of magic. It's complicated."

Regina, to Emma's relief, resumed climbing. "Is there anything in this world that isn't?" she replied in frustration.

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," was Emma's only reply.

"I think we're there," said Regina. She rapped her knuckles on the small wooden door before her, and it swung outward easily, letting a beam of light into the tower. She promptly climbed out of the tower to find herself in a small, recessed alcove. "You can come up. It'll be tight but it should fit two."

Emma hiked herself up and out the small access door and just as Reinga had said, the alcove was cramped with the two of them, but it would keep Emma hidden while she fed Regina her lines. Emma squeezed in, elbow to elbow with the other woman, both crouched on their haunches.

"So who is this Wendy? A sister or something? Those boys don't look civilized enough to have a nursemaid..."

"The closest thing they ever had to a nursemaid was a rather mischievous fairy," replied Emma.

"This Tink person?" Emma nodded. "Trying to get children to hurt themselves for a laugh sounds more like a sprite or pixie."

Emma shrugged. "Yeah, I don't know. I'm still getting caught up on all this terminology."

"Because you grew up in this land. With no magic." Another mysterious mention of stories. But stories were just that, weren't they? Regina was determined to put together the pieces as best she could, even if she wasn't particularly liking the picture it was forming.

"Right," Emma answered a bit shortly. "Look, we should get started." She wasn't exactly up for a heart to heart with the woman responsible for most of the misery in her life, amnesiac or not, especially when she'd barely done as much with her friends turned parents. Besides, for once she wasn't constructing an excuse. She drew in a deep breath. "Long story short, Wendy and her two little brothers awake one night to find a boy flying outside their window."

"But you just said there's no -"

"Magic? Yeah, not really sure where this really took place. Anyway, that's not important. Peter Pan, the flying boy, sprinkles them with pixie dust and tells them to think happy thoughts. That's what let's them fly. So, he takes them back to his world, Neverland, where forgotten orphans live and play and never grow up. Only there's this pirate ship that accidentally sailed in and can't escape. So they've been trapped for centuries, I think, led by the evil Captain Hook, who will stop at nothing to get his revenge on Peter whom he blames for him losing his hand. A crocodile actually took it, of course. But he blames Peter." She paused, realizing just his much Regina had in common with Hook, carrying a long-standing grudge against a child; a grude that only made things worse for everyone.

"That's terrible, " replied Regina, still digesting it all.

Emma gave her a sidelong glance. "Which part?"

Regina raised her eyebrows at the question. "Why, all of it of course. Orphans with no parents to care for them, being chased by pirates bound to a vengeance obsessed captain, bent on punishing a child... they could probably find their way home at least, without him. But what world would they return to? Hundreds of years passed since anyone they knew or loved had died?"

"But they're pirates..." protested Emma, who had never really thought of them as living breathing people. Yet here she was about to negotiate with the Lost Boys.

"You don't know much about pirates, do you?" asked Regina with a smirk, happy to be the one in the know for a change.

"You do?"

"My family's land isn't far from the coast. It was a girlhood fascination for me; it all seemed so romantic; freedom and adventure on the high seas. Not to mention being one of the few places a woman has just as good a chance at making her own way as a man." She readjusted her weight in an attempt to get a more genial face to face position. "I don't know what pirates are like in your realm, but ours are mainly escapees from royal naval vessels that had been pressed into service. It's not much different from slavery. Usually, they end up there because they owe taxes or need to earn money for their families and cannot find work elsewhere."

"Seriously? God..."

"King Leopold didn't engage in that kind of brutality, if that's what you're worried about." Emma hadn't been, and it took her to realize she was talking about Snow's father, at which point she had to admit she was glad to hear it. "But most neighboring kingdoms, like King George's, aren't so kind. So, many sailors escape to take up piracy. Ships aren't run like kingdoms. They're bound by their ship's Articles of Agreement, but they share their ill-gotten riches equally and will even leave a crippled sailor with a savings to live off of if they can't be of use anymore." She sighed. "Suffice it to say, the idea of no obligations, the freedom to live the way I wish, where one is judged on their merits and not their birthright ... held a certain appeal for me growing up."

"Sounds like it still does," replied Emma, noticing the wistful tone to Regina's voice.

"At times... in any case, I find what you've described as tragic for all involved. "

Emma nodded. "Right. Well, it ends with Wendy taking the Lost Boys home to be raised in her family. Peter had brought her there to act as a mother to them, but she knew, unlike them, that she was still much a child herself. Peter stayed with Tink and I'm not really sure what happened to Hook."

"So I need to convince them I'm this Wendy, whom they see as a mother figure, and convince them to come with me. Then what?"

"Then we find the real Wendy and hope she's grown up like Pete."

Regina pulled the thimble from her pants pocket. "And this...?"

"A kiss." Emma simply got a dubious look in response. "Right. So, Wendy, being a innocent girl and all, when Peter asked for a kiss, gave him that. Being from Neverland, he didn't know any better, and so it's kind of their cute... thing."

"And just like any kiss, whoever gets a kiss from the girls, wins," replied Regina. Now that was a game she knew. "Not a bad little ruse," she contemplated, thinking back to all the cotillions she'd been forced to attend and boy after boy who had tried to steal a kiss. _'Ladies save their kisses for their husbands'_ she heard her mother's voice say. "If only teenaged boys could be so easily fooled," she added with a bit of levity to her voice. She took a focusing breath. "Right. Well, here goes nothing."

"Just stay near the alcove so I can help you if you get stumped." Regina nodded and stepped outside, smoothing out her clothes in a perfect mirror of her older self, raising the hairs on the back of Emma's neck. That evil queen was in there still somewhere, and as much as she was coming to like the young spirited woman she used to be, Emma felt she needed to remind herself of that fact.

"Rufio? " she called out and the call was met with the expected answering chant of "Ru-fi-o! Ru-fi-o! Ru-fi-oooo!"

"Wendy! You made it!" cried out a small, pudgy boy of about eight who stood on an adjoining roof.

"Of course," replied Regina. "You're my boys... how could I abandon you?"

"I knew Tink couldn't be trusted!" she heard Rufio remark from above. Regina took a few steps back and craned her neck upwards to get a better look. He stood hanging by one hand to the lightening rod, peering out below the dome.

A boy with a thick crop of blond hair that seemed to naturally form itself into wave at the front, stopping tooting away on his crude wooden flute. "You did _not_!" he called up. He appeared to be the next youngest boy, about Henry's age, and less reverent to the oldest boy than the rest. He hopped over the another ledge and dangled his feet over the side. "I'm the only one who can remember everything about Neverland - and here!" he proclaimed to Regina. "And she's definitely Wendy!" he called up to Rufio.

She heard a small chorus of boy's voices. "Really?" "No foolin'?" "I told you so!" and so on, with one exception. "Shut up, Slightly!" shot back Rufio.

"Just... be their mom," she heard Emma whisper.

"I don't know how to be anyone's mom!" Regina whispered back.

"Sure you do," Emma answered with such certainty, Regina found she almost believed it herself.

She thought back on her own mother, and what she'd do in this situation. _'That throbbing vein in her temple would burst from her temper long before it got this out of hand'_, she thought. Still, it was a place to start. Moms bring discipline. She crossed her arms over her chest and set her feet resolutely. Scolding without a full name to intone hardly seemed like scolding at all, and she thought back to a remark Pete had made earlier. "Mister Rufio Pan! You come down here right now, young man! You know better than to behave like this!"

Emma cringed as the Lost Boys chorus broke into a round of sarcastically taunting 'OooOooh's. She should have known this would be Regina's default setting for 'mother '. Snow hadn't mentioned much about Cora, aside from her being a 'manipulative harpy' who played nice to Snow all day long, while she browbeat Regina, her very much grown daughter, as if she were the petulant child of a scullery maid. She'd seen her strict hand with Henry, and sometimes the things she did 'for his own good' were downright cruel. Most telling of all was the clumsiness with which she made loving gestures. If this was a reflection of how she'd been treated as a child, it was no wonder she spoke the language of motherly love like a foreign tongue she'd never mastered.

As abhorred by the idea of turning into her mother as Regina was, she found falling into that icy witch's voice surprisingly easy, and she stepped it up a notch in response to the boy's challenge. "This is _**not**_ safe and you _**will**_come down _**now**_!" she growled. "You comply this instant or _**so help me**_, you'll curse the day you were born!"

The Lost Boys were flabbergasted, without exception, at this tone. It was nothing like the Wendy they remembered in bits and pieces. They remained unimpressed, let alone intimidated, with the threat. "Have you been spending too much time with Hook, Wendy? Are you sure you're not a pirate now?" Rufio called below.

"Think fairy godmother, not _evil_ stepmother!" hissed Emma. "Wendy was delighted by their games, up to a point. But when they needed correction, she guided, not punished. Above all else, she was patient and kind with the boys; _that's_ why they hung on her every word!"

Regina kept her attention on the boys, careful not to look in Emma's direction, lest she give her helper away. There's no way they'd trust her then. She sighed inwardly. Of course using the example her mother set wouldn't work. It drove them away just as surely it had driven Regina herself away. The only person who had treated her as she'd heard other children's mothers did was her own nursemaid. She gratefully dropped the angry stance and folded her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers together. "I'm sorry boys!" she called out. "That was uncalled for - I just care about you so much, and when someone you care about is in danger, sometimes you get mad!"

"You mean like when Peter got mad when Tink was kidnapped by Hook?"asked the boy Rufio had called Slightly.

"Exactly."

"Isn't she a little old to be Wendy?" asked one of the twins.

"She looks like Henry's mom," said the other.

"So that makes her a mother!" replied Slightly.

"A Wendy_ is _a mother," added the pudgy boy.

"Nuh-uh," said the twins in unison. "Faye is our mom!"

"_Was _our mom - and that was fake," called back Rufio. "A pixie can't be our mother!"

"Yeah," called back Slightly. "Mothers read you stories and give you kisses!"

Hearing this, Regina quickly pulled out the thimble from her pant's pocket. "I have a kiss to give!" She held the tiny silver object aloft and it glinted in the afternoon sun - not that the boys noticed at this point. They had dissolved into a cacophony of bickering; Wendy and her kisses forgotten. "Boys? BOYS!" she cried, but still, they paid her no mind. Next, she tried Peter's whistle trick, but she'd never been able to recreate that loud kind of whistle she'd heard shepherds use with their sheepdogs. And, of course, her mother had forbid her from practicing it. The whistle was barely loud enough for Emma to hear.

Regina poked her head back into the alcove, giving Emma a befuddled, pleading look. "Now what?"

Emma unconsciously chewed on her lower lip as she wracked her brain for more Neverland lore, her eyes drifting along the length of the roof. That was when she saw it: a single, white, seagull feather. "Crow," she thought allowed.

"What?" asked a bewildered Regina.

"Crow!" Emma whispered excitedly. "You have to crow!"

Regina's brow furrowed. "What's crow?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Uh... as much as I can anyone I've just met." She thought back, remembering that this was apparently Snow's daughter. "But I know King Leopold is a good man, and what I remember of Snow, she has a good and kind heart... so if you're like your family... perhaps I trust you more than the usual stranger." _'Perhaps even more than my mother,'_ she realized, the thought making her both angry and sad. It was familiar feeling. The next thing she knew, Emma was quickly pulling a lace from her boot, snapping Regina back to the present. "What are you doing?"

"Making you a squaw, your Highness," replied Emma. She made quick work of it, leaving the her boot's fit loose, but in no danger of falling off, thanks to being knee high and secured by a zipper along the side.

"Am I going to be a squaw or a crow?"

"A crowing squaw. Just trust me. It's like their secret handshake. A password."

"Ok. So what do I do?"

"Turn around," instructed Emma as she picked up the white gull feather. Regina turned around and sat in front of the sheriff, who quickly wrapped the shoelace around Regina's head a couple times and tied it in the back.

"What are you doing?" Regina asked slowly. She jumped as she felt Emma slide something between the knotted shoelace and her head. "What's that? Did you just stick a diseased, nit-ridden stray feather into my hair?" For all her mother's accusations that she was uncouth, Regina still valued cleanliness and was certainly squeamish when it came to filthy wild animals.

"It's not diseased," was Emma's only reply.

"This _can't_ be necessary," Regina shot back, getting as close to yelling as she could in a whisper as she spun around to face Emma.

"It is if we're gonna sell this."

"Don't you mean if _I'm_ going to sell this?" asked Regina testily.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Right. Fine. Anyway, look, you need to do exactly as I say. And you really have to go for it - no princessy, half-hearted version that fits with your handbook of regal manners."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Regina's lips as she leveled her eyes with Emma's. "Clearly, you don't know who you're talking to. If I had my way, there would be no 'lady-like' rulebook."

"Don't be so sure just yet."

"Try me."

"Well, step one: swallow your pride. Step two: take a big breath. Step three: crow bigger and bolder than the most obnoxious rooster you've ever seen. You see a lot of livestock in your land, right?"

"Of course," replied Regina, but she immediately deflated. "Crow? Really?"

"Really."

"And you're certain this will work?"

"If you can sell it," replied Emma with a shrug.

"Challenge accepted," Regina shot back. She steeled herself, letting her competitive nature stampede over the very large flock of butterflies in her stomach, and stepped back out onto the roof.

She'd spent her whole life railing against her mother and properness, and trying to get away with anything she could, simply because she could. But here, now, being asked to do something her mother might just die seeing, she found she really didn't want to do it. She stole a glance at the street below and groaned, quickly turning away from the gawking crowd. Rebelling was one thing; making a fool of one's self lost its sheen when she wasn't proving anything. But then the looks she'd received a mere hour prior; the hostile, suspicious looks, including those from Emma, August, and Peter, that spoke volumes about something she knew she didn't want to know - but _had_ to know - they flashed in her mind's eye like an ever repeating version of those god-awful tapestries her father loved. Interspersed in those were the occasional warm or encouraging eyes of Snow and Henry.

She realized she _did_ have something to prove - to all of them. She steeled her posture and folded her arms like wings, her thumbs hooked into her underarms, and gave Emma a last look. The blond was smiling, and amusement most certainly sparkled in her eyes, but she pointed her thumbs up, in a movement that seemed to be an encouraging gesture. Regina, young Lady and Countess of Grimholde, swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and let loose a crow with an aplomb she didn't feel.

To Emma's surprise, Regina had actually done it. _'I'll be damned.' _And she'd done it well. Whatever else she thought of the woman, when she did something, she did it with her whole heart and did it well. She realized that the Lost Boys must have agreed, because they'd gone silent.

Regina paused, frozen in her crowing pose, eyeing the now silent boys. Emma hadn't exactly told her what came next, but if this was like any other battle cry, she should have gotten a response, not just their attention. So, she gave a second crow, this one somehow louder and more spirited than the first. This time, she got the answering chorus of crows she'd been expecting, and to her own extreme surprise, the feedback felt good. She answered again, and couldn't help the broad grin that had somehow found itself plastered to her face.

Watching this, Emma too was having a hard time keeping a straight face. The whole thing was absurd on a level she couldn't remember having seen at any other point in her life. Meeting Henry had taught her to laugh again, just as they say all kids do, and she got the feeling Regina was feeling the same just now.

The second round of answering crows were punctuated at the end with cries of "Wendy!" and Regina found herself actually feeling a little jealous of this Wendy. It was absurd, of course, but she'd always been kind of a loner, with a tiny circle of close friends, leaving her feeling isolated most of the time. She suddenly wasn't looking forward to revealing she'd tricked them - _they'd_ tricked them really. It wasn't all her fault. It wasn't even her plan, she reasoned to herself.

The crowd below was atitter, laughing and murmuring amongst themselves at Regina's display. August could hear the murmuring; speculating if she'd cracked under the pressure, or maybe the Blue Fairy had enchanted her. A few more pessimistic types argued as to whether she was being blackmailed by Snow, or simply sucking up to garner sympathy by helping save some kids. August was no stranger to being the object of people's second-guessing and found himself sympathizing, just the tiniest bit, with Regina. Even if she got her memory back and truly turned over a new leaf, it was unlikely there was anything she could do to truly prove herself changed to most people.

Snow, for her part, stood marvelling with the widest smile she'd had had since the day the curse had broken and she'd reunited with family and dear friends. She didn't know what her daughter had said to Regina, but whatever it was... she'd have to ask if persuasion was another one of her 'superpowers'. A fleeting thought about what could have been, had Regina been a willing mother to her; she clearly had the capacity to be playful at one point in her life. But she let the thought go - she'd realized long ago that dwelling on what couldn't be never did any good, and simply hoped Regina had let go every once and awhile with Henry. She glanced down at the delighted boy, but didn't ask. She'd rather hold on to the possibility than have all hope removed by an answer.

Regina set her hands on her hips and looked up at Rufio. "Now, do you want that kiss?" she asked, shifting back as if she hadn't just imitated a barnyard animal. Still, she couldn't wipe the grin off her face. She stole a glance at Emma, and the pair broke into a shared laugh, as each Lost Boy scrambled their way to Regina, nearly bowling her over as they came running and locked their arms around her midsection after running into her at full speed.

But the crowd's looks quickly turned to terror and gasps as Rufio sat, his legs stretched out before him, and he slid down the dome like it was piece of playground equipment. Regina, now rooted to the spot by a troop of boys, tried to break free to catch him, but had no luck. Emma, hiding in the alcove, couldn't see what the commotion was about, and by the time she'd ducked out to see what was going on, there was no getting to his likely landing spot in time. She sprinted anyway.

Thankfully, Rufio had slid off to one side, and not the front, and launched himself off the upper-most ledge, making a landing on the open, flat roof, but took a deadly rough tumble. He'd clearly been trying to break his momentum via a forward somersault, but his legs had simply crumpled under him from the height of the fall. He rolled a few feet before finally thumping into the wall of an adjoining raised level. He curled up on his side, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Regina had broken free by this point and arrived by Rufio's side at the same time as Emma. Regina's hands hovered over the boy, not sure where to start. "Are you alright? Did you break anything?" she asked frantically.

Emma crouched on his other side and propped him up. The boy took a couple deep gasping breaths. "You get the wind knocked out of ya, kid?" The boy gasped and nodded as the rest of the Lost Boys gathered around, genuinely surprised and concerned that their leader had taken such a fall.

Regina did her best to keep them back, pressing gently with her outspread arms. "Give him room to breathe."

At the worried looks on his friends, or perhaps brothers faces, Rufio smirked and rubbed his head. "That's easier in Neverland..." he began to chuckle but it lapsed into a cough. Not wanting to look weak in his peers eyes, he pulled himself to his feet with Emma's help, and looked at Regina. "Guess you weren't foolin' about the no flyin' thing..."

"Maybe you'll listen to me next time," Regina replied in a gently scolding tone. "Now, does anything hurt or feel broken?"

Rufio held his head. "Just my pride," he said with a laugh.

"Worst landing ever, Rufi," teased Slightly, and the rest of the boys joined in ribbing their leader.

"Aaalright fellas," Emma began loudly to get their attention, but they paid her no heed.

"Lost Boys," Regina announced in a voice Emma could only call regal, and the boys fell silent, immediately enraptured. Emma shook her head, as the image of Regina in a dressing gown, leading these boys, dressed in animal onesies, on a march through a treehouse; the fact that the woman seemed to have forgotten she was wearing a makeshift headdress wasn't helping matters. She stifled a laugh behind her hand, pretending to cough, but the microsecond of a glare Regina shot her made it clear the former evil queen hadn't missed it, but Emma's rebel side simply reacted by broadening her smile. And yet again, to her shock, Regina returned the look. "How about you we all go downstairs and I'll..." She looked to Emma for an Wendy-appropriate suggestion. Emma pantomimed reading a book, then her hand talking. Regina nodded. "... tell you some stories!" A hurrah went up amongst the boys, who now couldn't get downstairs quickly enough.

Emma leaned over to whisper in Regina's ear as the herded the boys to the ladder. "Peter himself couldn't have crowed better - the chicken wing pose wasn't necessary, but I thought it was a nice touch," she teased. Regina narrowed her eyes threateningly at Emma, but the effect was ruined by her broad smile.

Once back downstairs, and on the street, Regina and Emma joined up with Snow, Henry, August, and Peter. The crowd parted readily for the oddball retinue, and quickly broke up to go back to whatever their business had been before stumbling onto the spectacle. Snow shared a look with Emma as they made their way back to the Sheriff's station. "Any chance every person in town _doesn't_ know about what just happened by tomorrow?"

Snow raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Gossip spreads faster than fleas in a flophouse in Storybrooke. I give it 'til sundown." Emma chuckled and shook her head. Ever since 'Snow' had returned, her language had been peppered with expressions from her home realm, which would be well and good, except for the fact that they all seemed to be rather seedy in origin, making her wonder just what the woman had been up to during her years in exile. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

As they approached the Sheriff's station, Emma directed August to gather up some dwarves and commandeer some materials to install some heavy locks, and plenty of bedding. She didn't feel right locking these kids up in her jail cells, but needed a way to secure them from running off again - at the very least, until they found the real Wendy. The big unknown there, of course, what what state she was in. If she too was still a child, Emma could only hope that the Darling family was willing to take them in.

She took a sidelong look at Peter, and just as she'd guessed, he was wearing the same bittersweet expression he did every time he was in the boy's presence. It was like watching a living incarnation of the gentle, homesick-like ache of nostalgia everyone carries in their heart for one thing or another from their childhood. The only problem in this case was that his Storybrooke identity was only 23, with a BA in Rhetoric, which sounded classy and impressive, but didn't exactly lend itself to any industry. Before the breaking of the curse, he'd been married to a socialite heiress 15 years his senior, who kept him as a trophy husband, who turned out to be the daughter of a minor noble in Midas' kingdom - the one from the 'Princess and the Pea'. Such a dainty, picky woman was a less than ideal match, and while she'd been kind enough to let him stay in her house when she moved back in with her true prince, on paper, he was essentially a kept man, with no income, no work experience, and in no position to take care of five very challenging boys full-time. The one bright spot in his life was his St. Bernard, whom James had reunited him with. Nana, who had originally been the Darling children's nurse, was just one among many fairytale pets who, being many character's best friends, had been ripped away from their owners, and relegated to the pet shelter during the curse.

One of James' first acts had been to hold the kind of pet adoption event you could only see in Storybrooke. Citizens with missing animal friends were invited to visit, and should the animal recognize the human claiming it as their companion, they were free to take it - no charge. Pinocchio had retrieved his cat Figaro, Prince Erik his sheepdog, Aladdin his monkey, and even Pongo had been reunited with his true love and 11 puppies. Jiminy had been quite relieved that the version of that tale had been quite embellished during its retelling in this world.

Emma turned her attention back to the 5 boys doting on Regina and gently took Henry's hand as they walked. The idea of splitting the Lost Boys up was firmly filed in her mind under 'L' for 'last resort'. In the meantime, she was pretty sure Granny was the only woman tough enough, and with enough room, to keep the Lost Boys in line. The least she could do is outfit the tough old lady with the right equipment.

Once they had all filed into the station, Emma and Snow moved the second cot from the adjoining cell into the cell on the right. Getting the hint, Regina directed the boys to take a seat in the cell. "Once you're all settled in, I can start the story," instructed Regina. The boys readily complied.

Emma leaned against her desk, ankles crossed, and leaned over discreetly to Pete. "Can I talk you into going over to Granny's and picking up some food. Something tells me they haven't eaten much in the past week."

"Well, there _is_ a distinct lack of pies cooling on windowsills in Storybrooke," remarked Snow in mock seriousness.

Peter smiled and nodded. "No problem."

"Just tell Granny to put it on my tab," Snow replied. "I'm sure you know what they like."

Pete flashed the pair of women a boyish grin, out of which peered Peter Pan. "Back in a flash!" With that, he spun on his heel, and the renewed bounce in his step betrayed his relief at the Lost Boy's safety being resolved.

"Ready for me to continue?" Regina asked as she settled into a seat next to Emma's desk.

"Ready when you are, Wendy-bird," answered Emma, finding herself in surprisingly good spirits after their little escapade.

Regina frowned in confusion for a moment before Emma and Snow's eyes flitted up to her forehead, and she realized she was still wearing the makeshift head-dress. Rather than bite back, she simply rolled her eyes - though the quick manner in which she pulled the feather and shoelace off her head belied her embarrassment. "I believe this is yours." She flung the set at Emma, who let it hit her in the chest.

"Assaulting an officer isn't taken lightly in these parts, lady," intoned Emma.

"I didn't realize your sheriff was so delicate," Regina shot back. "My deepest apologies," she added with a flourished bow performed from her chair. "Now, if I may get on with it?"

"Be my guest," Emma replied.

Regina turned back to the boys. "Now... where was I?" The twinkle in her eye faded as she pulled her thoughts together. She was at the beginning of her mother's fall. Her tone was subdued once more as she prepared to tell the tale of her family's first cross with Rumplestiltskin. "Once there was a poor miller's daughter named Cora who met an earnest, if gullible, young prince in the woods. He'd taken her jokes as truth, and now expected her to perform the fantastic feats she'd described. He'd given her a fine coat and her father had been delighted by her news when she returned home that evening..."

**A/N: **Well, I hope I sold the crowing scene, and it didn't appear out of character... :)


	6. A Deal is Struck

**A/N: **Some quick responses to the guest account reviews:

**Evil Regal:** No SwanQueen, I'm trying to keep this extrapolated from canon as much as possible. No love interest in Storybrooke in mind for Regina at the moment, however I'm open to possibilities. The Cora storyline will be weaved through, all the way to present day, so there will be some light StableQueen content.

To reviewer re: appearances by other characters and their feelings toward Regina: Each will have their own opnions, depending on their situation and interaction with young Regina. The very public incident w/the Lost Boys is the first building block for how the town at large will feel. As far as the Snow/Regina relationship, yes, I feel like the show will be giving us more backstory as that goes along. Cora's throwaway line in "Stable Boy" to Regina ("You finally did something right") was very telling to me, and my pet theory is that Cora continued to verbally abuse her while favoring Snow. Couple that w/Leo paying Regina little attention, you breed a lot of bitterness. That will all play out in this story. Lastly, Regina will have a journey ahead of her in dealing wither her past - and I'll confess I'm not 100% sure if I'll give her memory back or not.

**Chapter 6: A Deal is Struck**

****Her father was delighted at the fine reward Cora brought home that night, and after hearing her tale, immediately began planning how to get the best price possible for it the next day. No true noble would purchase a frock coat from a poor miller, no matter how finely crafted; pride, and the fear of it being a stolen item, guaranteed that. But a wealthy merchant, eager to fit in with the landed gentry, was much more likely to look the other way. The question was, who was most likely to be flush with gold at this time of year? It was wonderful to see the spark back in her father, but the question remained; how to convince him that her dowry was a better investment than spending it all on imported seed and winter supplies. If she played her cards right, she would be married and able to take care of her father by spring; surely if he loved her, he'd do anything to make her happy - and then she'd take care of him.****

The next morning they rose early and Cora packed their simple hand cart high with all the furniture they could spare, the extra food she had been able to scavenge in the forest, and most importantly, Earl Henry's coat, carefully folded and packed in a clean, but simple, linen blanket tucked underneath. Her father was cleaning his hands and face in a freshly pumped bucket of water at Cora's insistence that they couldn't smell like a stable if they wanted to present themselves properly to wealthy merchants, when a retinue of soldiers appeared over the horizon on the road leading to their farmhouse.****

Cora quickly fixed her hair, smoothing it as best she could. "Hurry, Father!" she insisted quietly as he dried his hands and face. He simply shook his head at her behavior, marveling at how much his baby girl had turned out like her mother, despite losing her at such a young age.****

As the group approached, Cora and her father bowed low. Royal caravans travelling through these lands were a rare occurrence, thanks to their relatively out-of-the way location from important events, but if they did travel to the duchy, the most direct path followed the rough road through their farms, so Cora and her father knew their protocol for such an occasion. To their surprise, the retinue came to a halt. "Rise," commanded a baritone voice coming from the lead man as he dismounted. The man behind him followed suit while the guards remained on their horses.****

"Yes, my liege," her father answered, and straightened up. "How can I help you?" Cora cringed at his unpolished language. She'd reread the sole text her mother had owned, a book on proper grammar and language, like a monk did a volume on devotions to the gods. It was her holy book, in a sense, as she felt close to her mother every time she read it. There was something about knowing she had read the exact same passages that made Cora feel as if her mother was right there at her side. Attempts to read aloud and share with her father had been met with indifference enough times that she'd given up trying, deepening the sense a communion her mother when she read it alone. Her father refused to tell her how her mother had come by such an extravagance, but if travelling merchants and city-folk were to be believed, only moneyed and royal families owned any books - let alone a treatise on skills solely useful for people far above their standing.

**"**That depends," answered the aging blond man. "Are you the miller and his daughter?"****

Before Cora's father could answer another younger voice laughed. "Of course they are - I couldn't forget such beauty so quickly," said a voice which Cora immediately recognized as belonging to Henry. She looked up to find the young earl standing before her, regarding her with a warm, if melancholic smile.****

Cora's heart raced, until she realized that he wouldn't be smiling if he thought she had duped him. Perhaps he'd somehow found a nightingale and wanted to offer some further reward in gratitude? Could she be so fortunate? "Thank you, my lord," replied Cora as she rose.****

"But perhaps my beauty forgot how I prefer she address me?" Henry asked with a smile.****

Cora averted her eyes again and shook her head. "No, sir, but perhaps you recall my first answer to that request?"****

Henry nodded. "Ah, yes. I understand your hesitance, especially with the good Sir Reynolds beside me."****

Sir Reynolds eyed his young charge, who was acting strangely now that he was in the presence of this miller's daughter. Upon his return the previous evening he had spoken highly of her to his father. But now the cloud that seemed to hang over the young lord's head since his father had taken ill seemed to almost completely lift. This could be dangerous; should the young man stray, it would be Reynold's stewardship that would be blamed. He cleared his throat loudly. "Yes... be that as it may, in answer to your question my good miller, we come in the hopes that you may aid your lord."****

Henry nodded. "I was unable to find a nightingale, but the soothsayer suggested-"****

"In response to hearing Lord Henry's tale," interjected the clearly skeptical Reynolds.****

"-that you may be able to help, if the gods judge it right that you do so, by calling the birds forth so that I may capture one."****

Cora's heart began to race again as her father started to reply. "You desire my daughter to summon nightingales?"****

Cora quickly stepped in front of her father. She had mentioned the mistaken conclusion about her abilities to her father, and while she loved him, he could be honest to a fault at times. While she had never interceded when he'd lost a profit rather than sell a poor product, this was different. This was her life, and she had plans that couldn't risk the possible backlash of embarrassing Henry in front of his retinue - let alone his steward. She mentally shifted her speech from that which came naturally, to the cultured style so favored by nobility. ****

"As I explained to my lord yesterday, I have no straw with which to spin, and I know not why, but they do not appear if I do not spin. Alas but were it different..." She could feel her father's eyes on her, and frankly, she too thought she was laying the pathos on a bit thick, but she was happy to see he understood enough to stay silent. ****

Henry nodded. "I had guessed as much. Which is why I brought this." He gestured to the last horse in the line who had a bale of flaxen straw strapped to his back.****

Cora licked her lips, her mind racing as she tried to figure her way out of this. "Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware, my grace, they only come out at night and I simply couldn't keep you away from your father overnight. Not in his condition." Reynolds narrowed his eyes, studying the peasant girl. She was shrewed, to be certain, and he couldn't help admiring what must be a natural talent for playing the game of politics. If he was reading it correctly, she was very dangerous indeed. "If it pleases my lord, leave the straw with me and I will have your nightingale when you return in the morning." She hoped his trusting nature would work in her favor.****

"That is quite kind," replied Henry. "It does pain me to leave my family at such a time." He nodded, his mind made up. "Then we shall return on the morrow, and I pray you have the bird."****

"And a bale of spun gold," added Reynolds flatly. "You know the consequence of lying to your liege."****

Cora nodded nervously. "Yes, of course."****

"Don't mind Reynolds. He always suspects the worst of people. But it _i__s_ his job, so I must put up with it." He sighed and climbed onto his horse. "Men, leave the straw and cage wherever our good miller would have it. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow, Miss Cora." With this he nodded at her father, sidled his horse around, and returned the way he'd come, his retinue not far behind.

"As you wish," replied Cora and her father in chorus.****

The moment the retinue disappeared from view Cora's father spun around to face his daughter. "What in the_ god's_ are you_ thinking_, Cora! The Duke will have our heads tomorrow when he finds out what a fool you've made of his son!" he hissed in a hushed tone.****

"No need to whisper Father, they're gone," she answered, standing her ground despite him standing so close she could feel his hot breath on her face.****

He grabbed her by the shoulders with his meaty workman's hands and, for just an instant, squeezed with a vice-like grip. It was the first time her father had ever hurt her in any way, and she couldn't help the tear that rolled down her cheek as she was nose to nose with the man's red, angry face. "Father!" she cried, shaken by his display of anger. Just like that, he released her, the feral rage gone in a flash as he realized he'd laid a hand on the most precious thing he had in his life. He stepped back as if he himself had been wounded. She quickly pulled herself together. "Father, this is no time to lose our heads! Do you really think I'd have gone along like that if I didn't have a plan?" She'd begun to realize, as a young adult, that her father wasn't the brightest man. Not stupid, to be sure, but he lacked the ability to think quickly on his feet, nevermind craft new plans and strategies in the long term. She knew the success of the farm in the last few years were her doing, not simple luck. As her mother had told her, the only luck she needed was the luck she made on your own. But, being his little girl had meant he didn't listen to her opinions, so she'd taken to leading him around by the nose without him even realizing it. She'd feed him her ideas in passing, letting him believe he'd come up with it on his own.****

Her father set his jaw at her condescending tone. "This is no time for insolence, Cora."****

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Father. You're right, of course." And so she had to dangle the carrot on a stick for her father once more.

**"**The Duke is a kind man, but he is fallen ill," he began, but Cora quickly leaped in to lead his train of thought before he even knew what it was.****

"Oh, yes, of course! If we leave before they return, they'll be too distracted to waste time on a pursuit - and with the Earl's coat and what we've saved here, we'll have more than enough to start over! Our prospects with this land are slim at best, anyway. You're so smart, Father!" She leaned just so slightly forward, expectantly.****

Her father blinked a couple of times before nodding. "Yes. Yes... we'll make a new start elsewhere... someplace outside the duke's reach."****

"Oh, why travel_ all that way_ when there's a perfectly good château just up the hill?" asked a nasally sing-song voice in an accent Cora associated with the northern reaches. She and her father spun around to find a strange spindly man with gold-flecked greenish skin and large eyes which were more beastly than human. He sat perched atop the load on her father's hand-cart, legs crossed jauntily.****

"Wh- who are you?" her father asked, doing his best to keep the nerves out of his voice. There was a palpably sinister aura about the man - one that made him doubt this was a man at all.****

"Why, I'm here for your daughter, deary!" he replied with disconcerting giggle. ****

Cora's father, their argument already forgotten, stepped in front of his daughter, protectively guiding her behind him with one large arm. Cora, for her part, was certainly wary of the stranger, but pushed back against her father's restraint to get a better gauge of the impish man. She felt herself drawn to him for reasons she couldn't fathom.****

The imp twisted his hand in a show of flair before clutching it to his chest. "You _wound _me, sir! How could you think me capable of such a barbaric act?"****

The miller scowled. "I don't know you, and I don't want to know you," he growled. He'd never believed the fish-tales told around campfires, or cautionary fables told by old women as they tucked children in for the night, and he suddenly found himself regretting that fact. For here, standing before him, was a terrible creature that chilled him to his very bones. He studied the man-thing, and realized why his blood ran cold; the imp was perched atop the precarious pile of goods stacked in their handcart, but the objects underneath were not pressed by his weight, nor were they jostled when he shifted his weight. It was unearthly. If this wasn't the Dark One, he was undoubtedly spawned from the same hellish depths. ****

The imp hopped down from his perch, landing silently on his feet. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I have no business with you. Well, not directly anyway." He bared his brown teeth in what Cora's father assumed was meant to be a smile, which only caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.****

Cora felt the same prickle across her own skin, but there was something about the energy that was invigorating to the young woman. She fully stepped out of her father's shadow, and the imp raised a long, skinny finger towards the sky whilst staring the girl down. "Ahh, but that's not how _you _feel,_ is it_ deary?" He continued to slink forward. "_You_ know an opportunity when you see it."****

"Leave," Cora's father demanded, doing his best to fill his voice with a bravery he didn't feel. He desperately searched back into his memory, grasping for scraps of tales he'd never taken to heart, and therefore, never committed to memory. Suddenly, he thought he remembered something useful. "Or I shall use your true name, imp?"****

The dark, ethereal man stopped in his tracks, frozen. "You wouldn't... you _couldn't._.." he seemed to shrink back and began fluttering nervously like a leaf.****

This display of fear let a small bloom of courage blossom in the miller's chest. "I _can_, and I _will_," he growled.****

"Oh, please don't!" cried out the imp. "Please, let me stay - I have a deal for you!"****

"You leave me no choice then. Be gone, Rumpledskin!" he commanded, taking a bold step forward. But the imp didn't move, and his quivering stopped. He'd gotten it wrong. What was it? "Wrinklestilts!" A slow smile danced across the dark being's lips now, and the miller was coming to regret never teaching his daughter the tales. She had a memory like a bear trap. "Rummspringstein?"****

The imp shook his head, dripping in sarcastic pity. "Oooh,_ so _close. Let me give you a little hint..._ Rumplestiltskin_."****

A flash of cold practically knocked the wind out of the miller's gut, and his mouth went dry. The imp waved a hand about, as if beckoning him. "Go on,_ say it_," he prodded and then giggled, as if recalling the punchline to a joke.****

The Miller swallowed nervously, despite his mouth being parched. He felt his daughter step up beside him before he finally blurted it out, in an attempt to forestall her getting any closer. "Rumplestiltskin!"****

The imp's smile turned deadly serious, and the mischievous tone was gone from his voice, which was now pitched a full octave lower. "The tales are only half right, _friend_," he sneered. "You don't just need my name to control the Dark One." Rumpelstiltskin leaned in until their noses were almost touching, despite the miller having almost a foot of height on the imp. There was a tense moment wherein he could swear he felt tendrils climbing and wrapping up his legs and arms like some magical ivy. And then the goblin-man's face abruptly changed again and the feeling snapped out of existence. "Of course, I'm not going to tell you what that is, so that's neither here nor there," he drawled, and drew away from the larger man. "So, why don't we get down to business here?"****

"What business?" asked Cora, showing little of the fear of her father.****

"Ooh, I think I'm going to_ like_ her!" he leered as an aside to the miller, punctuating it with a feigned shudder. He then turned his full attention to the girl. "I've been watching you deary, and I simply couldn't stand by any longer, watching this good man and his beautiful daughter suffer tragedy after tragedy."****

Cora raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She knew very little of the Dark One, save two things: he had power, and he could solve your problems for a price. And she was up to her eyebrows in trouble. The question was, how to pay him? Perhaps if she could create some leverage... "Your concern is appreciated, but my fairy godmother has already promised help at my time of greatest need."

Rumpelstiltskin laughed. "I told you I've been watching you girl! For much longer than you could possibly imagine - a fairy has never answered your calls, let alone watched over you as a godmother! Face it deary - they don't like you." He scrunched up his nose as if smelling something unpleasant. "But if you ask me, that's not such a bad thing!" He put an index finger to his chin and began to slowly stalk a circle around Cora, looking her up and down. "But I appreciate the attempt to turn a deal in your favor. I do believe your mother would be proud as well," he observed idly.

Cora's face flushed with anger. "What do _you_ know of my mother?"

Rumpelstiltskin leaned in from behind, his lips so close she could feel them brush her ear as he whispered, "I know she made a little girl make a big promise. To do whatever it took to improve her lot in life; to live the life she that was denied. A life where she'd be free to pursue the things she loved, and that she pass those values on to her own daughter; and only if that little girl had succeeded in this task could her mother rest in peace. I believe her exact words were for the her little sparrow to grow into a beautiful nightingale, enchantress of all who hear her song." A chill ran down Cora's spine as the imp quickly stood back to his full height, and spun the girl around to face him with a single movement. "Oh wait! Now I remember - _you_ were that little girl," he announced loudly, making sure her father heard.

Cora's hands flew to her lips. "But I've told no one that!" she cried.

"You'd be surprised what you can learn when you have power," Rumpelstiltskin replied simply.

"The type of power that would let me fulfill my promise to my mother?" Cora asked carefully.

"Yes, that would be within the range of my abilities," replied Rumpelstiltskin with a waggle of his head and a devious smile. "At a price, of course."

"I thought as much," replied Cora. The thought that all her problems could be solved by one simple deal pushed aside any caution that should have tempered her decision. As she reasoned it, no debt he could ask of her could be greater than that she owed to her mother.

"I won't let you deal with this gremlin, Cora!" stated her father firmly.

"Oh, come now Papa! You love your daughter, don't you?" asked the imp.

"More than anything," the miller replied hotly.

"And you'd give anything to make her happy, then, wouldn't you?"

"Of course! But-"

"You're in no position to give her the happiness you owe her, and you know it. What future can you offer her now, hmm? A wandering gypsy? A pauper's wife? A loveless spinster? Surely you don't want that..." Rumpelstiltskin had sidled up next to the miller, as smoothly as a snake, twisting around its next meal.

The miller's breath caught in his throat - whether by spell or by the imp's words he wasn't sure. But he had to admit the words made sense; the argument was sound. A life on the run, or a lifetime of drudgery, was not what he wanted for his daughter, but the odds of her finding love with a man of even comfortable means was now the stuff of miracles. Perhaps, he began to reason to himself, not only fairies could grant miracles after all. He drew in a deep breath. "What would you have of me, so that my Cora may have the life she deserves?"

"Oh, I don't need anything from_ you_, deary," replied Rumpelstiltskin with a sneer. "Your daughter must pay her own way - and make her own luck. Isn't that what your mother always said?" He directed the last back at the miller's daughter.

Cora nodded, the decision now clear to her mind. "What exactly is it you're offering?"

"Why... just your heart's desire, deary. A step up! A kind husband and guaranteed riches, provided for with a spinning wheel and a nightingale."

"A husband? You're mistaken - I simply need to meet Henry's wishes - golden yarn and a bird."

Rumpelstiltskin wagged a finger at the girl. "Tut tut - you're not that naive, deary. Once the Duke is well again, he'll wish to thank you ... And have access to your 'talents'. Young Henry is smitten with you, to top it all off. Do you really think a marriage proposal is anything but inevitable?"

Cora wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That buffoon? I've more respect for the intelligence of a sheepdog."

"Surely you don't hold by that 'true love' nonsense," he replied, his expression mimicking Cora's. "You've been prepared to marry whomever fit your goals since you were a little girl. After all, since when does true love guarantee a full belly or a comfortable life? Give up your dream to marry for love and see if you reap anything but resentment."

"How would you know?" challenged the Miller, finding his voice again.

Rumpelstiltskin gave him a knowing unearthly grin. The man had set the pins, just as he knew he would. Now he simply had to knock them down. "I've been around. People change. Gold doesn't. Which do you think is the wiser bet?"

"What good is gold when you're trapped in a marriage with someone you despise?" Cora's father shot back.

"Fat lot of good _twoo wuv_ did for your wife - for _your mummy_," replied Rumpelstiltskin. Cora felt like he'd twisted a knife into her heart. "_Gold_, on the other hand... perhaps you could have saved her... bought a bit of medicine?" He spun on his heel and began to saunter down the dirt path leading away from their farm. "But if you're not interested, I'll be on my way. I'm a busy man," he shot over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Cora cried out, her hand outstretched.

Rumpelstiltskin stopped in his tracks, one foot frozen in front of the other. "Coming to your _senses _deary?"

"Perhaps," Cora answered in a low tone. "Just what exactly are you asking for? And what would you guarantee in return?"

Rumpelstiltskin turned around slowly, his gold-flecked eyes piercing into Cora's chocolate ones, even from 20 feet away. "Ooh... the world, my girl... the world. Perhaps an entire realm, if you play the cards I'll deal you right." He tented his fingers in front of his face and closed the distance between them with preternatural speed and fluidity. He tilted his head, nearly nose to nose with the young woman. "A nightingale. All that straw, spun into gold. An enchanted spinning wheel, should your father-in-law wish more - and I dare say he will." His gaze dissolved as he let loose an insane little giggle, but he locked right back on when it passed. "All the riches you, or he, could _eve_r ask for!"

"And why should I marry that moronic royal if I can make gold on my own?" asked Cora. Something was fishy, she could practically taste it, but she couldn't pin it down.

"_Because_, little miss... all magic comes with a price. And if I give you that wheel, and that bird, the Earl won't take no for an answer."

"Why can't I just take the wheel that spins straw into gold and run with my father as we'd planned?"

"Because... should you take that path, you'll never have the means to meet for that wheel that I require. I can make gold myself, if you haven't grasped it yet."

"The price?" replied Cora shortly. Inside, she was quivering like a leaf - from intimidation, certainly, but also at the prospect of a lifetime of dreams just brushing her fingertips. She stuffed it down deep, trying to treat this like any deal made with a trader at market.

Rumpelstiltskin's face split eerily slowly into a grin. She was reeled in. All that was left was the next. "A favor."

Cora raised an eyebrow. "A favor? What favor?"

"I can't be specific at the moment. But if what I forsee should come to pass - and it always does - I should like a _small_ piece of the bounty of your marriage."

"Right," Cora said simply. She'd taken over negotiations with traders and gypsies from her father a few years prior, and prided herself on spotting a dishonest deal. "I'll make this deal... on one condition."

"I'm listening..." The imp's head tilted around so far, he almost resembled an owl.

"An escape clause." The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she saw the scowl appear in Rumpelstiltskin's face. "Hear me out! All I ask is that whatever your favor shall be, I may propose an alternative. Just one."

He studied her visage skeptically. "One trade?"

She nodded. "That fulfills your needs."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded in return. "Acceptable. "

"Really? " Cora cried, forgetting her facade for a moment.

"But!" cried the imp, holding up an index finger. "You must realize you're willingly forgoing any chance at true love as of this deal. _As of now_." He leaned in that much closer, his hot breath puffed on Cora's face, carryng with it a strange stench - both of sweet berries and decaying flesh. Cora wondered for a moment if it was his soul she was smelling, before reflecting on what she remembered of her parent's relationship. Her father's loss, and perpetual loneliness since, and how he couldn't move on and give her a new mother. What was the point of such ideals as true love if it didn't guarantee happiness? "Deal".

"Sweetheart! My sparrow!" Cora's father cried out. "You don't know what you're agreeing to! A lifetime without true love! I know it seems bittersweet, what I and your mother had, but I wouldn't trade it for the world!"

"And I wouldn't trade a _mother _for the world," replied Cora coolly. "Where was my happiness in your devotion?" she asked, her face flush and eyes starting to cloud up with tears, much to her own frustration.

Rumpelstiltskin twisted his hand in a flourish and a long scroll of vellum parchment unfurled in his right hand. In his left, a finely crafted quill. "Just sign on the line..." he prompted.

Cora blinked back hot tears, wiping away those that had escaped, with the back of her wrist, and hastily grabbed the quill.

"Cora, no!" her father cried out. He moved to knock the pen from her hand, but found himself rooted to the spot.

Rumpelstiltskin waggled his finger. "Uh-uh-uh! A lady must choose her own fate. " He leaned in, cupping the Miller's cheek in the palm of his hand and tilted his head to one side. "Got to cut the apron strings at some point, doncha' think? Well, millstone or scales or something in your case, I suppose." Despite being frozen, the miller's desperate rage was quite clear.

On the one hand, he was furious that this dark creature was manipulating his little girl into making a deal sure to carry a price she couldn't fathom of yet. On the other, he cursed himself. His his grief at losing his beloved wife had left him blind - not only to his little sparrow's need for a mother, but the need to keep her mother alive in her memory. They spoke little of her after the first few months. Not that he'd forbade such a thing, but he knew he shut down emotionally at her very mention. It was inevitable that Cora would pick up on that. She didn't want to hurt her father. But without even a clear memory of a mother... suddenly so much about his daughter became clear. She refused to divulge her mother's dying wishes, and at first it seemed not only harmless, but good. for the girl. But as she'd grown, and especially after she'd blossomed into a woman, she had become increasingly bent on a goal only she knew. It was a goal that had caused his sweet little girl to purposefully harden her heart to achieve. Whatever it was that his wife had requested of her daughter, he was sure misunderstood - as children are wont to do. His wife would never have wanted her daughter to value the things she did. But he, in his selfish desire to escape the pain of true love lost, had abandoned her memory, leaving a small child's conception of what her mother's had been to _be_ her mother. And now she would pay the price for his selfish folly - of that he was sure. A single tear escaped his frozen eye, slipping down his cheek as if under no enchantment at all.

Rumpelstiltskin, now bored with the miller, turned back to Cora, giving her a toothy grin. "Just sign on the dotted line, deary!" She simply eyed the imp, and his grin faded. He waggled the contract as if enticing a dog into a game of fetch. "Come now... you can't depend on daddy to guide your every decision for_-eee-_ver," he sing-songed, before his voice immediately pitched down into an impatient growl "Sign and step into the first day of the rest of your life!"

Cora crossed her arms across her chest, her jaw set resolutely. "It's not my father's opinion stopping me signing."

"What then?"

"I can't sign a contract I haven't read," she answered in a flatly condescending tone.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled in appreciation. "Smart girl... go ahead. Take your time." He offered her the scroll, making a show at examining and picking at his fingernails as she read over the agreement.

A few minutes later nodded, raised the quill, and signed her name. She raised an eyebrow. "I'll need to see you sign as well."

He drew a sharp breath in faux-shock. "You wound me! I always abide by my contracts." A sly smirk slowly crawled across his lips. "You stick with that suspicious streak of yours and it'll serve you well. Suspect everyone, and you'll never be unpleasantly surprised, I always say!" He snapped the quill and scroll from Cora's fingers and quickly signed below her name. "Well! Let's get started, shall we?"

The miller stumbled as he regained control of his body, and though he could speak his mind again, he found there was nothing left to say. Still, he couldn't be a party to whatever the imp would be up to, as it felt too much like approval by acquiescence. Instead, he simply gave his daughter a sad look and retreated slowly into their modest cabin.

Cora's eyes lingered on the door that shut behind him, wondering for a moment if she'd truly made the right decision. "Don't worry, deary. A father never turns his back on his child - he often even sees that his child was right all along."

"How can you be so certain?" she replied, not taking her eyes from the cottage.

"Like I said before - I've been around," he answered in an oddly subdued manner. "Now," he said and snapped his fingers, causing a spinning wheel to appear in a puff of purple smoke next to the bale of straw left by Henry. "I feel like spinning a while. Come back in three hours time."

"Aren't you going to teach me how to spin gold from straw?"

"_You_ will never spin straw to gold - the enchanted wheel will. Now, do you know how to turn flax to yarn?" Cora nodded. "Then you know how to spin it into golden yarn. Now off with you."

"I could help," she replied, not relishing the idea of having so much time and nothing to do.

"I don't. Want. Help," he growled. Just as quickly as his temper flared up, it dimmed, and he seemed melancholy. "Why don't you go talk to your father?"

Cora took a few steps backward before nodding and sort of half-bowing as she turned toward her and her father's cottage. She paused at the door, hand raised, somehow feeling as if she should knock. After a few moments, she squared her shoulders, stood up straight, and pushed the door open with a confidence she didn't feel. It was the first time she'd purposely acted counter to her father's wishes, and she was desperately hoping what the imp had said was true.

He facade of brazen confidence fell away almost completely upon seeing her father, staring at the hearth fire. His eyes had dried, but the his whole presence seemed to weep instead. For Cora, it was like being transported back in time to the first days after her mother had died. She approached slowly, sinking to her knees next to him and gently placed a hand on his leg, looking up into his face. "Papa?" she said in a small voice, sounding very much like she had when her mother had passed.

He blinked, as if coming out of a trance and looked down at his little girl. Only she was so clearly not that little girl anymore. She was a young woman, ready to start her own family, and he realized for the first time, a mirror image of her mother when they'd first married. He wrapped a hand around her smaller one, leaving both to rest back on his knee. "I fear I've failed you, my darling sparrow."

"This was my decision, father."

"Not this," was all he said. "So much more." Her eyes darted, searching his face for a hint to what he meant. But he already knew he would never tell her. She'd never believe him now - maybe yesterday, but she had taken one step too far, and he knew his daughter well enough to know she wouldn't let herself believe she'd made a mistake after committing herself so deeply to the story she thought she knew of her mother. Even if he could get her to finally share what her mother had made her promise, he knew she'd simply say he wasn't there - that he didn't know what he was talking about, if he tried to refute the accuracy of her request. He resolved to get Cora to share the secret with him some day, but only that he may guide her back to her mother's true wish as best he could, before she wandered any further off-path. The truth was his cross to bear now, as he felt in his heart that was what he deserved after so completely failing his little girl. How had he not seen just how desperate a creature she'd become?

"Father, I had no choice. The alternative..." She had no real way to end that thought, so left it hanging in the air.

"Was too much to bear," he supplied and looked so deeply at her, Cora felt as if he was peering right into her soul. Little did she know, he didn't see her at all, but rather, the future he wished for her. His resolve cemented before the thought had even fully formed: no matter what, he would support his little girl. He would guide her as best he could without her knowledge, and provide as much love as any being could. She'd given up the most important thing a person could have in their life, a partnership of true love, and he would impart as much of that undying devotion as he could before he passed from this world. He turned to face her fully and dropped to his knees, mirroring her position, and gathered up her other hand, cupping hers in his. "I won't claim to understand why you feel this was your only choice. But I don't need to. I simply need you to know, truly and deeply in your heart, that I will never leave your side. I will be your port, should it storm; your hearth, should it blizzard; your wind in your sails, until my dying day. I don't know where this change of fate will take us, but I will follow. You understand this?"

Cora swallowed, but it did little to push down the lump in her throat, and nodded. "Absolutely father." She guided his hands up with her own and kissed them tenderly. "Thank you." She offered him a smile brighter than he'd seen on her since their crops had failed. Perhaps even before they'd lost her mother.

"I love you, sparrow," he said, the sentiment not a declaration but a vow. He wouldn't let this deal destroy her like it did the unfortunate souls in the campfire tales. He would die before he let that come to pass.

"I love you too, father," she replied and realized she'd never meant it more than she had that moment. She'd never before had to consider what that truly meant. Rumplestiltskin had been right, she realized, and even as her heart glowed under her father's doting gaze, the idle thought occurred to her. Her father was wrong to doubt her wisdom in dealing with someone as powerful as Rumplestiltskin - wrong to doubt her ability to work a deal to her favor with him. And that she loved him despite his ignorance, even if she couldn't appreciate his pedantic, unworldly understanding of how the world truly worked.

Outside, Rumpelstiltskin sat at his wheel, for all appearance seeing nothing. But a smile that would have chilled the bones of any mortal to witness it slithered its way across his face. _'I love you too, father'_. The phrase echoed in his head, an aurora borealis made up of the color of both father and daughter's heart's desire dancing about the pair. The stage was set, and he spun faster now, turning his attention to the paths his puppets were most likely to take, and his ethereal grin widened. It would take the hand of the gods themselves to coax a rose out of the thorns he'd sewn. It was amazing what a simple sickness, a failed crop, and a ridiculous cure could sew. It was almost a pity that he would ultimately be the only one to reap a reward - but he had done the sewing.

"Rumpelstiltskin met his end of the bargain - a bale's worth of golden yarn, and a nightingale - by the time Henry returned the next morning, and events played out just as he'd predicted," said Regina. "Duke Alys recovered, and his son sung the praises of the miller's daughter who had provided not just his cure, but the ability to transform his duchy from a pitiable backwater to a rival for the king's lands. That wasn't what he raved about, of course," she reflected with a wistful smile. "From what I've been told, the entire household could have identified my mother on sight even before she'd made her first appearance at court. He still tells stories of her voice, her beauty, her keen wit..." Regina's face fell. "Would that she deserved it now..." Looking up, seeing Snow, Regina was snapped back to her true time and situation. "Or did." As Snow opened her mouth to offer whatever input, Regina raised a hand. "I don't want to know. Not just yet," she stated with quiet resolution. Snow nodded, but the pity behind her eyes betrayed what Regina didn't want to know. Her father wasn't here.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Anyway... as it turns out, there were no suitable royals of marriageable age, and given his infatuation, and her 'talents', the marriage proposal was quick in coming. As my mother tells it," she let loose a low, bitter laugh. "And believe me, I heard about it every time I complained about those useless classes I had to endure as a girl - she was brow-beaten to bring her up to the etiquette expected of a lady of standing in time for the wedding - and for another year afterwards, to erase her common accent and the like. And... it wasn't long until she was with child."

"You mean _you_, right?" asked Emma, leaning forward.

Regina's face split into a bitter smile. "Her _one_ and _only_ - as she so often likes to remind me."

"She blames you?" asked Snow.

"She's never said so, but..." she shook her head and sighed. "She didn't have to. I don't actually know what happened, but... I never knew my maternal grandfather. All I really know is that when she was unhappy with my... comportment," she said slowly, her voice turning rough with emotion. "I wasn't living up to what my grandfather was worth."

Snow's hands flew to her mouth. "Gods..."

Regina's nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath through her nose, doing her best to push down feelings all too unpleasant and all too familiar. "It's alright," she said, licking her lips. "I know now she had no right to lay such blame on an infant - whatever happened."

"But it still hurts," stated Emma. Despite her best efforts, she found herself feeling real sympathy for the childhood Regina must have led. The old Regina seemed to cherish her father's memory, but clearly, he'd failed her if this was the mother she'd grown up with. She'd been in enough dysfunctional foster homes to have seen this sort of thing play out again and again - occasionally being the target of such blame herself. But she'd always been able to tell herself that the foster parents who took her in had made that choice. But the biological kids of those awful people - they couldn't help but feel responsible for ruining their parent's lies in a way that they couldn't quite grasp - not knowing that their parents had always had a choice. Reflecting back, as an adult who had made that tough decision at just 18, she couldn't help but rage against such selfish injustice. For all her problems with Regina, and they weren't few, she couldn't say the woman hadn't made Henry feel wanted. And for that, a not so small part, was grateful. She studied the unmasked face of the woman before her and couldn't help but be a bit amazed that Regina had been capable of even that much.

Regina could feel Emma's scrutiny, and once again wondered exactly what their relationship might be. Clearly, she understood something of her less-than-ideal upbringing. But what was the truth of it? The reactions to her had been nothing but a confusing mish-mash of mixed signals. Still, she couldn't bring herself to ask, feeling like she was dangling at the edge of a precipice, but she was getting the feeling that the boy who hung on her every word, was key. The boy who carried her very likely deceased father's name.

"Who's hungry?" asked a brash woman's voice, breaking the assembled group from the spell of Regina's story.

The queen, turned mayor, turned maiden looked up to see Pete accompanied by a stout looking grandmother type and a tall brunette with unnatural streaks of red running through her hair, with more skin exposed than she'd even gotten away with whilst swimming. Still, no one seemed to notice, let alone react, so she resolved to consider it a quirk of this realm. She couldn't, however, disregard the way both women eyes her. As if she might rise up an stab them in the back the moment they took their eyes off her. She did all she could in response, which was shrink away and do her best to be invisible. It wasn't her natural response, but after the day's events she didn't feel up to anything else.

Granny was bearing a tray crowded with half-pint chocolate milks, a stack of straws, and napkins. Red and Pete's hands were full with brown paper bags, the grease of a dozen servings of hamburgers and fries starting to seep through. Snow raised an eyebrow as Granny and Red began to unpack the delivery. "Not exactly a balanced meal, is it?"

Granny leveled her gaze at the younger woman. "Growing boys who haven't eaten a proper meal in close to a week need their red meat."

"Says the wolf," replied Snow with a chuckle.

"I suppose you'd prefer apple pie?" shot back Red with a smirk.

"My, what a big mouth you have," Snow replied.

Red narrowed her eyes. "The better to knock some sense into you my dear."

Snow laughed. "Always!"

Red's demeanor became subdued a little too suddenly for Snow's liking, and the two exchanged a look before retreating to the hallway. August and Emma exchanged their own looks, though it was quite clear that they were as mystified as Regina and Henry. Granny, meanwhile, was hamming it up with the Lost Boys, but quite clearly was aware of what was going on. Only Pete and the Lost Boys seemed oblivious, reveling as they were in their first filling meal in quite some time.

Seeing Regina's gaze not breaking from the door Snow and Red had disappeared through, Henry took it upon himself to redirect her focus. He tugged on his regressed adopted mother's shirt, drawing her attention. He held up a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. "You ever had a cheeseburger?"

Regina shook her head, but remained somewhat distracted. Henry frowned, frustrated by his lack of success. He grabbed a handful of french fries, opened her palm before she realized what he was doing, and stuffed her hand with them. This rather forceful step across her personal space boundaries, which Henry had never had to consider, brought her attention fully to the boy - and her hand. She stared down at the hot greasy food in her hand.

"French fries!" he announced. He took her hand and moved it up. "Go ahead... try 'em!" Granny's fries were her weakness - that much Henry knew. When he'd occasionally managed to guilt her into letting him have 'junk food' for dinner, which she'd refuse to order for herself, Henry always knew to order extra large fries from Granny's. This was because half his fries would 'mysteriously disappear', or so his mom liked to pretend. He'd played along nonetheless, though he'd long ago caught her sneaking fries when she thought he wasn't looking. The older he got, it was one of the few warm memories of his adoptive mother he'd been able to hold on to.

Regina carefully picked one of the strange greasy lengths of crispy plant-stuff to her lips and took a cautious bite. She was rewarded with a pleasing mix of crunchy, salty, and savory, and Henry's extremely pleased grin. "You knew I'd like this," she stated.

Henry shrugged. "Well, duh!"

His intent was clear, even if his choice of words wasn't, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the earnestness of the boy, whom she was quickly growing fond of, and easily acquiesced to indulging in this new food experience with him.

Emma and August made their way through their meal at a less enthusiastic pace as they watched Henry and Regina. They didn't need words to know they were thinking the same thing - what happened when Queen and Mayor Regina returned? What would they do if she didn't?


	7. Sense and Sensibilities

**A/N:** Just to throw it out there for those asking, yes there will be more Cora after we've moved a little further along with Regina. Now, review/questions responses:

**CMS-** Lol, no worries. I'm just happy you left a name. It's the "person who said/asked this" and its ungainliness I hate. I know the jumping back and forth thru time on the show makes it confusing, but if you google a OUAT timeline you'll see that Rumps has been around for at least 100 years by the time the curse takes place; there aren't enough details for exact yrs, yet, of course. Here's a quick breakdown for everyone on how we know this:

-We know this because he becomes the Dark One during an ogre war - Granny says that her father and brothers were already veterans of the war when she was a girl.

-Rump 'helps' Jiminy get rid of his parents, ending in him vowing to guide little Gepetto, who is an old man by the time the curse rolls around. Even if this was the 1st thing he did post-Bael, that's at least 50 years prior.

-He made the deal that took Charming's brother, which is likely 20+ years before.

So, clearly he was around when Cora was young - more likely quite some time before that. Gold also make the comment that he can't easily tell Hopper how old his boy is - and we've seen that time and space doesn't have to be linear when travelling between realms (the hat/apple). It's my pet theory that when Rumple crafted the curse, he "aimed" it to land in a time when Bael would be alive in this world. *shrug* I _will_ eat my hat if Bael turns out to not be Henry's dad, though. :)

**Mar- **Thanks for the feedback, I'm glad you're enjoying it. No SwanQueen, but perhaps a friendship. Hope you'll enjoy where the story goes, nonetheless.

Alright, on with the show!

**Chapter 7: Sense and Sensibilities **

Red tugged at the crook of Snow's elbow, practically dragging her down the hallway; Snow lengthening her stride to keep up with the taller woman. As they rounded a corner and it was clear Red was making her way for the door, Snow planted her feet and tugged her arm free. Red spun around. "I won't have that woman listening in," she said, planting her hands on her hips. It wasn't hostile, but rather a simple statement of fact.

Snow gestured down the hall. "Past two sets of doors and over the voices of half a dozen boys? Not everyone can hear like you, Red." She gave her friend a smirk. "So, what's bothering you?"

Red didn't return Snow's mirthful expression. "Ok, ok. Look, you're my best friend right?"

Snow nodded."You know I think of you as the sister I never had."

"And I you. Which is why I have to ask: what, in the _hell_, is _that_?" she gestured back down the hall as well. "Have you lost all sense?"

Snow knew she wasn't asking about the kids. She ran her fingers through her short hair - an old habit that had reasserted itself, even if her long locks had not. "Alright. What did Peter tell you?"

"Pete? Nothing. And I don't blame you for not telling that Toys R Us kid a thing; he doesn't exactly have a reputation for dependability. But _half _the town is already talking about 'her majesty's' little stunt. What's going on?"

Snow cringed. It hadn't been her intention to put Regina on display like that. Truth be told, she hadn't even thought about how her accompanying them in public could be seen. It had just sort of happened. She knew the story was going to spread fast, but she'd hoped to avoid talking about it with anyone before they'd figured out what was going on. She sighed. "You can't tell anyone this. It doesn't go any further than you and Granny."

Red cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow dubiously, to which Snow threw up her hands. "Hey, look, I just don't want to presume anything. It's different here... we're all different in one way or another," she said softly.

"And some things never will," replied Red intensely. "Hey, I know we haven't really had a chance to catch up, but it's me." She extended her hand. "James may always find you, but I'll always be at your back. To the last, remember?"

Snow blinked, her eyes getting a little misty, and extended her own hand to grip Red's forearm. The other woman did likewise, in the gesture of commitment in their homeland. There was no need for further discussion, and both women's heart's filled with a feeling of camaraderie they'd forgotten they were missing, making the Enchanted Forest seem not so far away for a moment. Having their own respective families back was wonderful, but the bond between the two was something special, that couldn't be replaced by any other. "Always."

When the moment was over, Red once again had her hands planted firmly on her hips. "So what in the name of the gods is Regina doing chumming around with you and Emma? The gossip in the diner is that you've had the Blue Fairy cast a spell on her - or that she's just got you fooled, _or_ that she's plain lost her mind - _or__** my**_absolute favorite - that she's paid you and James off with some kind of deal to send just your family home in return for letting her go free. At least Rumpelstiltskin has had the good sense to make himself scarce. I thought Regina understood the concept of out of sight, out of mind, but today she's wandering around town - accosting people in the street? I don't know what she's up to, but so far all it's accomplished is reminding people that the council hasn't made a decision on her sentence yet."

Snow sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "That must have been when she was making her way here."

"From where?"

Snow let loose a dark laugh. "Would you believe the past?"

"Huh?"

"She..." Snow shook her head. "Erased her memory somehow. Or, someone else did. We're not really sure what happened, yet."

"And you _believe_ her?" asked Red skeptically.

Snow frowned, clearly frustrated. "Well, _she _certainly doesn't seem to know what's going on. There's not even a speck of recognition in her eyes for Henry, Emma, or anyone but me- and half the time it seems like she's not really seeing me at all. And when she does? ... there's _no_ venom in it. But _you_ tell me - does what you've been hearing through the grapevine sound like the Evil Queen to _you_?"

"As if she's never lied before," replied Red. "Are you sure you're not trusting her a little too quickly?"

"Are _you _sure you're not confusing me with Mary Margaret?" shot back Snow flatly.

"Alright, alright! If you're sure, then I trust that - but surely you understand why I'm skeptical."

"Of course. Obviously, if anyone has a reason to not trust her and demand justice, it's me."

"Yeah, except you don't have the market cornered on that anymore, Snow. We've all had the things we treasure most ripped away from us now - for some it'll be forever. And you need to appreciate that. Quickly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Snow, furrowing her brow in a frown. "What aren't you saying?"

Red sighed. "Look - like I said. People are talking."

"And?"

"And they're getting impatient. I don't hear a ton of it, since a lot of people know we're close, but it's out there. If I didn't have _my _particular talent for hearing, I'm sure I would've missed all of it. They want justice."

"They want blood, you mean," Snow replied.

Red shrugged. "Yeah, a lot of them. Can you really blame them? They need answers, or at least an update or ssomething. There hasn't been a town meeting since the day after the curse broke."

"And there's no better soil for rumors to grow than in than a vacuum of information," intoned Snow with a frustrated sigh.

"That's not the worst of gossip had been brewing, but after today... the whispers are turning into stories, Snow. Seeing _her_ wandering around town free and clear is only going to continue to make it worse."

"What, exactly, have they been saying?"

"That we're stuck here permanently. That you and James and the other royals are trying to restart your kingdom here - I mean, your daughter_ is _the sheriff, and the Blue Fairy seems to be following your lead. The dwarves are seen as being at Emma's beckon call. That puts all the magical creatures, and power, in your hands. It reeks of dynasty building."

Snow's expression darkened. "I don't see anyone else volunteering to shoulder the responsibility."

Red shrugged. "Hey - don't shoot the messenger." She paused. "But..."

"But what?"

Red scrunched her nose. "They kind of have a point."

"Red!"

"Think about it - you remember everything as well as everyone else about this world. A monarchy isn't welcome here - isn't _legal_ here! And while Regina's mayorship may have been a lie, they're used to the idea of_ elected _officials. The genie is out of the bottle."

"You want me to arrange elections? With everything else I've got on my plate?" asked Snow incredulously.

"Well, not _you_, but _somebody_." Snow eyed Red slyly. "Oooh, ho! No, no, no! No, I'm a lone wolf type, remember? I don't do group projects."

"Hmm. _No_, that detail seems to be missing. Retrograde post-curse amnesia, I think is what the doctors are calling it."

"More like _selective _post-curse amnesia," replied Red.

"Fine, fine. You're going to have your hands full with the boys anyway," replied Snow.

"What boys?" asked Red slowly. Snow laid a hand on Red's shoulder, an apologetic smile on her face. Red's eyes widened. "Ooooh, no! No way! I'd rather play the small town civics game than that! _Those_ hellions? Why can't they stay at the nunnery?"

"You know as well as I do that they're overcrowded as it is. It would only be until we find their family! Besides, they're a special case-"

"-I believe the word you're looking for isn't special. It's hellacious."

"Precocious?" she shot back with a smirk before her shoulders dropped and her face became serious. "I don't know who else could handle those kids; not like Granny can. _Please_, Red."

A low grumble sounded in Red's throat before she threw up her hands, looking to the ceiling. "Fine... But you owe me, like, a girls night out, where we paint the town 'til it's redder than me - no excuses!"

Snow smiled in relief. "Absolutely." She'd missed her friend, but even more so, she'd missed having friends of any kind. Mary Margaret wasn't exactly a homebody, but she'd had no close friends - the type you swap clothes and secrets with until Emma came to town. Even then, it had taken Emma volunteering her for her to actually go out with Ruby and Ashley - two women she had little in common with in this world. Her home realm didn't have nightclubs, of course, but a night at the pub was a welcome distraction at times, and Red had even begun to enjoy royal balls, and the opportunity to meet a range of eligible guys, before it had all been stripped from them. Fun had been far too infrequent in her young adulthood - and the 28 years since. "But what would the favor I owe you be?"

"I choose the time and the place. No excuses, no rescheduling."

"Done," replied Snow. She and Red shared a smile and a moment of comfortable silence. "So... any other rumblings from the underground I should know about?"

"Not yet. But I'll keep my ears open. In the mean time..."

"James, Emma, and I will sit down with the other members of my court; we'll draw up an agenda and schedule a town Q&A for tomorrow night. Go ahead and spread the word - school auditorium, seven pm. Hopefully, we'll have some answers by then."

Red nodded and glanced back down the hallways toward the sheriff's office. "So... she really doesn't remember anything?"

Snow nodded. "It's the strangest thing... well, unsettling is probably more accurate. I mean, she looks like the woman who's caused such horror and sadness, but when I look her in the eyes... all I can see is a frightened young woman, doing her damnedest to hide it, who wouldn't purposely harm anyone."

Red didn't seem moved. "Well, rooster impressions aside, I can't believe she's incapable of hurting people. That girl is still the same one who went on to ruin your life - _everyone's_ lives."

"That's the problem. I don't know how much of that was her, and how much of that is what her mother did to her. Regina's mother was as cold as they come, and just as cruel, with a heart blackened by dark magic, and who knows what else. The evil queen isn't in that room, and without Cora, who's to say if she'll ever reappear?"

"Does Regina still have her powers?" asked Red.

"Yeah - well, I'm not sure how powerful they are. I think she accidentally tapped into them earlier, but she was panicking - it was _still _harmless."

"Only because she doesn't know how to use them, I'd wager. Hell, she could be _more _dangerous if she doesn't know how to control them!" Snow shrugged, reluctantly conceding the point. "Wait. You're not thinking of just letting her get away _unpunished,_ are you?" Red asked sternly.

Snow shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so. But how is it justice if we sentence someone who didn't even do what we're punishing them for?"

"But she _did_ do those things, Snow!" Red growled, raising goosebumps down Snow's spine. "How do you even know that the magic she's carrying around isn't going to warp her like it did the first time?"

"I don't!" Snow shot back. "We don't even know how or when Regina got her powers to begin with - and until we do, we can't assume anything! Just because I was queen doesn't mean I'm all-knowing! _I_ didn't want that responsibility - I had that burden thrust upon me. If the people out there don't like how I'm handling it; if they want to elect someone else, I'll _happily_ hand it all over to them, but _someone _needs to stand up first! Until that happens, I _can't _step aside. Not because I don't want to - gods know I just want my family to live in peace! But we can't. Because _somebody _has to lead, lest it all fall apart!"

When Snow was finished railing, Red cleared her throat uncomfortably, having been put in her place quite thoroughly. "_I_ know that. But maybe the people out _there_ need to know that," she replied in a quiet tone. "So... what _are _you going to do? About Regina, I mean?"

Snow sighed, feeling better after being allowed to vent. "Once you and Granny take the boys off our hands, we're going to see the Blue Fairy. Hopefully, she'll be able to sense something. Maybe even reverse it. Whatever the case, it's a place to start."

"Can I ask you one last thing?" asked Red. Snow nodded. "Just what was Regina like before going all Darth Vader?"

"She was... maybe you should just come see for yourself," Snow replied, giving her a smile.

"Do you think she knows how to play cards?" wondered Red idly as they walked back down the hall.

"Could you _please_ not hustle the evil queen turned maiden, please?" groaned Snow.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not like she can't afford it. The furniture in her living room is probably worth more than Granny pays me in a year! It could be like my personal 'Price is Right' Showcase Showdown!" Snow gave her a withering look. "Fine," Red harumphed.

"And don't mention anything about the curse, or her past, or... well, anything, I suppose."

Red raised an eyebrow. "You haven't told her yet?"

"She broke down just seeing her own reflection, and almost fainted when she accidentally tapped into powers."

"The Evil Queen, with a case of the vapors?" Red replied, not bothering to hide her own amusement. "What I'd have paid to see that!"

But Snow couldn't join her in her amusement. "It's not as entertaining when you're actually there, and it's a real person hurting in front of you - no matter who it is." She paused. "How do you tell someone they've killed countless innocent people but don't remember it? That they became one of the most evil beings in all the land? I was so ashamed of all the hurt I'd caused, and what I'd almost done, when I woke from 'Stiltskin's potion and I didn't even kill anyone. Can you_ imagine _what that would be like to have the blood of so many on your hands?"

Red's expression darkened at this, and there was silence between the two as the younger woman seemed to reach some sort of conclusion in an inner dialogue. "You can't keep it from her forever. Even Regina deserves to know the truth about her true nature," she answered quietly. "About what she's done. She'll find out on her own, one way or another. Hopefully, before the girl she used to be accidentally hurts someone with that dark magic."

Snow cringed inwardly as she suddenly realized such a situation would obviously hit quite close to home for her friend. "Oh, Red..." she began, searching for a way to apologize for being so thoughtless.

Red held the palm of her hand up. "No - it's ok. Don't worry about it." She stopped walking and met Snow's gaze. "But not telling her doesn't change the fact that she is what she is. And if she doesn't get her memories back, she still needs to be held accountable - whether she learns from her mistakes or what, I don't know; but she needs to make sure it doesn't happen again. I don't know enough to say if it's magic or mommy issues or if that even matters, but there's something dark at the heart of that woman, and she's going to need to learn how to control it. No matter _what_ else happens."

Snow nodded, giving her friend a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder. "I'll remember that. But in the mean time-"

"Mum's the word," supplied Red.

"Just until we find whatever _her_ 'red cloak' is. It's not fair to burden someone with that kind of knowledge if they can't do anything about it."

"Fair enough," replied Red, offering a warm smile. She turned as they approached the glass doors and looked in. Regina was seated on Emma's desk, legs draped over the edge, and ankles crossed. She was chuckling as she and Henry were engaged in a mock swordfight of straws. It was the most relaxed she'd ever seen the woman; no walls up. "What about knucklebones? Or is chess the only acceptable game for you royals?"

"_Red_..."

"Ok, jeez... Ask a stupid question, I guess." She shrugged. "Chess it is," she added with a sly wink. Snow simply rolled her eyes at the younger woman's teasing and pushed through the door.

"Now, wrist straight," Regina intoned. "Shoulders back - good. Now, show me your en guarde position." Henry held out his right hand, a straw firmly gripped between his thumb and forefinger. "See if you can keep me in a _prise de fer_, alright?" Henry nodded. "Ready? Go!" Henry's eyes narrowed, concentrating on following Regina's straw sword, which swayed back and forth with serpentine fluidity. Finally, Henry seemed to lose his patience and knocked his straw into hers, before twisting his wrist in a circle. This didn't faze the woman, though, and she feinted left before correcting the motion mid-slice, and tagging Henry's wrist.

"Aaaw!" Henry cried out and he flung himself down into a chair.

"That wasn't bad - but you're letting your impatience get to you. Always remember, the best attack plans require the greatest patience." She leaned forward, as if to tell him a secret, though everyone could hear. "That applies to more than just swordplay, too." Although she'd meant to simply impart a little wisdom, she was surprised when Henry's enthusiasm seemed to be extinguished by the remark. He studied her face, a strange expression on his own. "Hey... like I said, that was quite good for a first attempt!" she said, trying to keep her tone positive as she attempted to mend whatever she'd done wrong.

Snow, seeing the exchange, quickly spoke up. "I didn't know you were trained in blades!" she remarked, probably a little too loudly.

Regina nodded and gave her a humble smile. "I'm not exactly an expert - but I managed to talk my father into arranging fencing lessons one summer when my mother had been travelling. Are you practiced in the art as well?" Snow couldn't help but reflect back to all the times she'd begged Regina to let her father's master at arms train her in weapons, and all the times she'd refused, going so far as getting the man banished to their most distant, harshest military outpost when she'd found out he'd tutored her in secret. She'd convinced Snow's father that learning how to fight would simply encourage her to get into fights and endanger herself ; that was all he'd needed to hear to go along with Regina's thinking. And now, as it turns out, it was just another example of her punishing Snow for injustices dealt by Cora. A strange flare of anger and pity roiled in her stomach for a moment and the cloud that passed across Snow's eyes wasn't missed by Regina. "I'm sorry, if it's an uncomfortable subject, forget I asked."

Snow shook her head. "No, no. I just... had a similar experience," she replied, offering the woman a small smile.

Emma, who had been watching this couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the remark. It was still strange to think of how much she didn't know about this woman. She'd expected it to take time to get to really know each other - that process had been a part of her reunion fantasy since she was little - but the extreme differences in their childhood experiences weren't something she could have anticipated. It was easy to forget, being that they were still in this world, but the longer time went on, the more Snow's memories seemed at the ready, rather than Mary's when it came to anything outside functional knowledge of this world, and the curse only supplied details to their fake memories when needed.

She'd never asked Mary about her own childhood, but she wondered what kind of vague details the curse would have dreamed up for her, had she. Could they have reminisced about saturday morning cartoons, or would she not recall them? Could they have looked back on unfortunate preteen crushes, arguing about which member of New Kids on the Block was cutest? Having a mother the same age but that could at least relate to her own experiences growing up, would have, in certain ways, been less strange than one who was the same age, but had more in common with an Amish renaissance faire devotee. In many ways, despite being enemies, Regina and Snow had far more in common than Emma did with either of her parents. She shook her head slightly, pushing the thoughts to their usual place in the back of her mind. It wasn't the time, and if she were completely honest with herself, ignoring unpleasant thoughts was what she was best at; at least since she'd gone cold turkey on running.

Emma turned back around to face the jail cells and Granny, who was handling the boys, and was once again amazed by the woman. She'd read the story and heard a few more, and frankly, wasn't surprised that the still feisty woman had a badass past. She'd kind of assumed as much even before she believed in the curse. No, what was blowing her mind today was that the woman had gotten the Lost Boys quiet, organized, cleaning up their mess, and even using 'please' and 'thank you', all in the five minutes since Emma had broached the subject of her taking the kids home with her. She wasn't sure, but it almost seemed like the town matriarch was relishing the challenge.

"Alright, boys. Line up and wash up!" she ordered, pointing at the station's small restroom. "Rufio, Slightly - help the twins when you're finished." The older boys made faces, but didn't actually complain, to Emma's surprise. Granny planted her hands on her hips in a self-satisfied pose and turned back to Emma, careful to keep one eye on her new charges.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

Granny chuckled good-naturedly. "You should try raising boys with wolf's blood running in their veins. Now _that's _a challenge!" She looked back again and sighed warmly, drawing Emma's attention to the statement. "They'll gnash their teeth - literally in the case of my family - but at the end of the day children want rules and expectations to live up to. It'll be nice to have a little life in the house again."

Emma smirked. "If you say so. In any case, we'll find a permanent place for them as soon as possible."

"Don't trouble yourself too much, dear. I know you and your family have a lot on your plates. Me and my girl are happy to do what we can."

"So, um," Emma bit her lip for a moment, not sure if she should broach the subject, but immediately realized she _had _to say something now that she'd begun. "Is there... anyone else in town I should be trying to identify?" Granny gave her a confused look. "You know, anyone important to you?"

Granny shook her head in the negative as she realized what Emma was trying to ask - were her sons, or grandsons, out there somewhere? "I'm afraid Red and I are the last of our line. Wolfstime has proved just as dangerous for my family as it is for those around us." Emma nodded, suddenly realizing that she had no idea when the next full moon was. Granny seemed to pick up on this. "Don't worry yourself too much - it will be a full two weeks before Wolfstime. If we don't sniff out her cloak by then, I'll let you know. I think these bars should be strong enough to hold her," she said, gesturing at the jail cells. "In the meantime, I'll be working on getting your wards here tamed and helping with the load in the diner. Those orphan's meals don't cook themselves you know - and the dishes certainly don't wash themselves!"

She gave Granny a grateful smile. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"

"Just doing my part, girl. Gods know you've got enough on your plate." She patted Emma on the shoulder as she rose to round up the Lost Boys. She let loose a sharp whistle as the boys, now all washed up, were starting to get restless. "Girl!" she directed to Red. "Lead the way! Boys - single file, follow her. I'll take up the rear - so don't you dare get it in your heads to dash off. A bloodhound has nothing on my nose, and I'm quicker than I look."

One of the middle boys, Cubby, Emma thought his name was, mumbled something under his breath. Granny immediately locked her eyes on the husky boy as Red tried to hide her laughter behind her hand. "You want to say that loud enough for everyone else to hear?" Granny asked. The boy blushed and looked down. "Let's hear it," she pushed. "What did you say?"

"I said, yes Granny Fang," Cubby finally replied reluctantly.

A pleased smile broke across Granny's face. "Good. Thank you, Cubby." She produced a round red and white striped candy from her pocket. "When the rest of you learn to show some manners, you'll get sweets, too."

"Yes, Granny Fang!" the boys replied, this time.

Emma raised an eyebrow at Granny who simply gave her a pleased shrug. "They came up with the nickname. Tell you the truth... I kind of like it." She shot Emma a final smile, and the woman couldn't help but notice her canine teeth. They weren't somehow bigger, were they?

The passing thought was interrupted as Red turned to Snow, throwing up her hands in an exaggerated manner. "And yet, _somehow_, she has a problem if I call her the technically accurate term of bi-"

"That's enough, girl!" interrupted Granny. "Little pitchers have _big_ ears!" Red shot her a cheeky look before waving goodbye to Snow and the rest, and leading the troop of boys out the door.

Snow shook her head once they were gone. "I do not envy those two dealing with that gang of boys," she remarked.

"But you're a teacher," said Henry.

Snow chuckled and gave him a smile. "And_ that _should tell you something!"

The adults laughed, but Henry didn't quite get it. He was still young enough to believe that adults were in their jobs because that's where they wanted to be, and that if they loved their job, surely they liked every aspect of it.

"I know this will come as no surprise," began Regina. "But I'm confused. I've heard two separate people call you queen, yet you also teach children?"

"And I'm sure you're tired of hearing this... but it's a long story," replied Snow. "Please, try and be patient. We'll get this sorted as soon as we can, but sharing too much information too quickly could be... dangerous."

"That magic I did," stated Regina, to which Snow nodded.

"Well, then. Let's go get some answers," suggested Emma.

The group made their way to the nunnery, which was a few blocks walk from the sheriff's station. The streets were almost empty now, much to Regina's relief, as she didn't fancy being at the receiving end of so many glares. The desolate streets were worrisome, however, to the rest of the group. This wasn't normal before or after the curse and could only mean that news of Regina's presence in town had spread - and most people had decided to lay low, likely fearing some kind of showdown.

Emma kept an ear open, listening to Regina and Henry's conversation. He seemed to be viewing this whole turn of events as fascinating and had quickly gotten over the comment from Regina that had disturbed him earlier, but she couldn't help but notice that his line of questioning had changed. He'd gone into full Sherlock mode, digging at the little details in what Regina told him and peppering his questions with odd little questions, much like he'd done with David when he'd woken up. 'What do you think of magic?' 'Ever seen someone turned into a frog?' Emma had to stifle a laugh when he asked Regina what her favorite suit of cards was, even as she resolved to get the kid to stop asking so many leading questions the moment they were alone. He was smart, but so was Regina, and this whole mess didn't need to get any messier. "I suppose you expect me to say diamonds, because I grew up in privilege?" replied Regina with a smirk.

Henry shook his head. "No..." he replied in a strange tone. "I can honestly say that wasn't my guess. So, what is it, then?"

"Clubs," she replied, which garnered her another strange look from the boy. "You know, the ones that look like clovers. They remind me of the clover blanketed hillock where I first learned to ride. My favorite tree to climb as a girls grows there too."

Henry cocked his head to one side again, as if filing the information away. "Ohh. I see. Okay."

She was about to ask what he 'saw' when the group came to a halt outside a large manor house, out of which was exiting a distinctly dwarf-like man. Like most dwarves she'd heard of he was short of stature, but built of stocky strength, with large ears and little hair on the top of his head. While he didn't carry a pick-axe, the lapel of his thick coat bore a gold star emblazoned with a tree like she'd seen in the library. He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to the group. "Sheriff. Snow."

"A little extracurricular side trip, Grumpy?" asked Emma.

The dwarf, whom she'd so recently considered to be a gruff, embittered man, actually blushed at this, but quickly puffed himself up as if to distract from the fact. "Hey, I got a lunch break just like anyone else in this miserable town!"

"Whoa there - I'm not saying anything yet, just making sure you're keeping your nose clean of the fairy dust while on duty!" teased Emma. Truth be told, she was still trying to figure out just how tight a leash she needed as an authority figure. The rest of the dwarves were much more 'eyes on the prize' than Grumpy, so they needed little supervision when it came to work. But there was something in Grumpy that had bred street smarts and common sense into the man that the others lacked. Unfortunately, it was the same spark that had gotten him in trouble as Leroy, and now, off-track as a deputy. Snow said it was true love, but Emma had been more inclined to call it true lust, until she'd met Nova, the object of his desire. Now, she simply made sure he wasn't working on his boat during work hours, or making too many stops by the nunnery whilst on patrol, and withheld the teasing for gently correcting him back on track when needed.

"Yeah, well, I'd better get back out there." He looked around, noticing the empty streets. "Something go down?" That was when he noticed Regina and his natural scowl deepened. He jutted his chin at her. "You need help with her?"

Snow shook her head. "Not exactly." She placed a hand on his shoulder and as she expected, he mellowed just enough to listen. "We'll talk about it later."

He gave her as irritated a look as he ever could, but nodded reluctantly with a grunt. "You call if you change your mind," he told Emma before pulling his woolen beanie on and down, over his ears. "Lil' man," he said with a nod of acknowledgement at Henry. "_Sister_," he sneered with a sarcastic smile as he passed Regina.

'_It's just like back home, with the staff, afraid of me because of my mother,'_ she told herself, but not really believing it. _'And she's dead now, and somehow took my memory, and everyone blames me for what she did.'_ Her inner voice sounded desperate even to herself, and she sighed. She was suddenly pulled out of her self-pity, though, as a hand took hers. She wasn't surprised to find Henry looking up at her, as she was certain she'd had some kind of relationship with the boy before losing her memory. "Don't worry, we're gonna fix everything," he reassured her, and for some reason, she found herself believing it.

Up ahead, as they took the steps to the abbey's front door, Snow and Emma exchanged worried looks as they overheard this. Snow pulled the rope to ring the building's antique doorbell. Without exchanging words, they knew the sooner they talked with him about the situation, the better. He was a smart kid, but he was also far more sensitive than he let on. Suspicious questions or not, there would come a point where he'd stop seeing the 'evil queen' in the woman altogether, and it wouldn't do to have Henry getting attached to a version of his adoptive mother that may very well disappear as quickly as she'd come.

To no one's surprise, Nova must have been closest to the door, as she answered. She offered each woman a quick curtsey and a shy smile. "Sheriff Swan. Your Majesty. How can I help you?"

"You can call me Snow, for starters," she reminded the young fairy in a friendly tone.

Nova shook her head. "Oh, I'm sorry miss Snow, I just -"

Snow waved her off. "Don't trouble yourself over it. Really."

"Oh, yes, of course. I-"

"We need to see your boss," interrupted Emma. She really did like the girl - especially for not shunning Mary Margaret during the whole adultery scandal - but if she let Nova's nerves lead the conversation they'd be there all day.

"Huh?"

"The Blue Fairy," supplied Snow with more patience.

Nova nodded enthusiastically at this. "Oh! Of course! Who else would you be here to see, after all?" She laughed nervously. "Important people meet with _other_ important people!" she muttered to herself. Normally, this was the kind of talk Snow would put down, reminding the girl she was as important as anyone else, but she knew that was a project she simply hadn't the time for, and hoped that whatever the town's fate, Grumpy and Nova would be able to stay together. They were good for each other - and if coming to Storybrooke meant the two getting their wish, if Red was no longer cursed with a wolf form (that was still a big 'if'), Jefferson being reunited with his daughter, and her and Charming getting their daughter back... well, that was enough happily ever afters to make the whole thing bearable for her.

They followed the young woman through a few narrow halls lined with small rooms that shot off of it, each housing orphans paired with fairies. Emma couldn't help but notice how much happier they seemed despite the cramped set up, but she supposed it was a return to their true calling as godmothers.

"Not exactly what I was expecting," remarked Regina. Like all magical beings post-curse, the fairies had remained human in appearance and size. Not naturally being creatures of austerity, they had, however, dropped the nun attire in favor of colorful sundresses, and even the occasional slacks - though still garish in color. The only hint of their supernatural origins, at this point, was the rather ridiculous hairdos that reminded Emma of 1960's housewives - had they been dropping acid with their hippy kids.

"Magic works differently here," was the only explanation Snow offered.

As they reached the back of the house, the dark hallway opened up into a bright room, filled with warm natural light. The conservatory's mostly glass walls were occasionally inlaid with stained glass murals of Catholic saints and, in another dark joke of the curse, iconic scenes of Storybrooke's most notable citizen's life stories, much to Henry's delight. Emma studied the scenes as well, finding some more familiar than others. There was Red in her cloak, a man she presumed to be Rumplestiltskin leading a small army of children away from a scene that may as well have been the gates of Mordor, and chillingly, a man clinging to the neck of a very familiar looking dragon as he held a golden egg aloft. She shook her head, amazed in a way, that it had taken her so long to believe - until she remembered how crazy it all still sounded to her.

The symbolism was lost on Regina, who struggled to make sense of the cacophony of imagery. Some figures were completely alien, while others somehow reminded her of home. Trolls and ogres, fairies and knights, were set next to seemingly innocuous scenes like a royal wedding, a summer faire, gypsy caravans, or one with children standing outside a house that looked like it was adorned with candy treats. Overall, the effect was peaceful; the sound of chimes bringing a magical aura to the space - not anything like the aura of her mother's magic, but soothing, like the magic she'd imagined fairies possessed as a girl, and she'd felt with Daniel, when they were able to steal time together.

The spell was broken when her eyes met those of the woman standing in the center of the room. The woman wore her hair more simply than many of the other 'fairies', arranged in an updo with cascading ringlets, and instead of the bright floral patterns, her dress was a deep royal blue with a baby blue scarf and earrings as an accent. She eyed Regina in a way that made her feel like a cat's favorite ball of yarn. "So it's true?" She directed this question at Emma and Snow.

"That depends on what you've heard," replied Snow, her defensive tone making Regina feel a bit less alone. Still, the tone confused her, as she'd only heard the Blue Fairy spoken of as a force of good. Countless people through history had her to thank for their happy endings. While Regina held a certain bitterness in her heart toward them, she had long assumed that much like the citizens of her duchy, the fairies never answered her pleas because of her mother's dealings with the Dark One.

"The real question is what _haven't_ I heard. I've had to assign three fairies to simply handle the phone calls for me. Clearly, we have much to discuss." She motioned to a simple wicker sofa situated beside where she'd been sitting before. The group sat down, and despite avoiding her gaze, Regina could feel the fairy's eyes following her. When the Blue Fairy had taken her own seat, she tented her fingers. "I believe it must have something to do with a change I sensed in the weave, today."

"The weave?" asked Emma.

"It's the magical fabric that ties everything together," replied Henry enthusiastically. "You know - like the force!"

Blue nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm. "Not a completely accurate comparison, but it will do for now."

"Riight," drawled Emma. "So?"

"The balance has shifted," she replied. "And it's all wrapped up in _her_, I suspect," she said, eying Regina.

Emma suddenly realized she could kick herself for not calling the woman ahead of time to explain the situation. If miss Blues Sister Superior here just out and out started questioning her, and dumped the whole truth on the woman in one king-sized serving, Emma doubted Regina would believe them. And then she became a flight risk in a situation where trying to leave could possibly get her killed. Or worse, she'd do some serious accidental damage with her magic. If 'mayor and evil queen' Regina felt magic was dangerous and unpredictable here, she didn't want the spell casting equivalent of a teenaged driver on her hands.

Snow, rather exaggeratedly, cleared her throat as she was clearly thinking along the same lines as Emma. "Before you go any further, let me explain where we've found ourselves." Her demeanor made it clear this wasn't up for discussion. "There seems to have been a magical... well, we're not sure if it was an accident, or if the mayor cast it on purpose, or if Regina was the target of another force. We're hoping you'll be able to determine that." She shot a concerned look at Regina, who appeared rather nervous. It was a strange look on the woman, seeing her so Blue Fairy seemed to take note of it to, as well as Snow's odd phrasing, because she simply nodded and rested her hands primly on her crossed legs. "I think it best if you tell her what you remember, Regina," suggested Snow. "Leaving nothing out."

The grown woman's eyes darted between Snow and the Blue Fairy for a split second, the soul looking out of them appearing far less worldly than the fairy had ever seen, which piqued nher interest. From the moment they'd arrived, she'd sensed a difference in the former queen-that-would-be-mayor, but without the woman's assent to further test the threads tying her into the weave, she could ascertain very little. It was unlikely that a person so thoroughly tainted by dark magic would ever willingly submit to such an examination - even if she didn't seem to be carrying that dark taint with her at the moment.

"Very well," began Regina. "Uh, as I told Snow and Emma, I was in the horse stalls of my family's estate with the stable boy... we'd resolved to elope that evening. To escape my mother."

"And you think you could have gone through with it?" the fairy asked, probing for what, only she knew. It was the tone she used with all souls pleading for a happy ending, when she was judging their motives. Just as with those desperate souls, she wasn't privy to the details of Regina or her mother's lives, and the decisions which guided them, but she knew what the outcome had been.

A look of disbelief crossed Regina's features. "Give up the prospect of a lifetime of playing politics, a loveless marriage, and worrying about whether the uncomfortable gown I'm compelled to wear is still fashionable enough or must I find a way to rearrange my kidneys to fit into the latest designs? Where it's perfectly acceptable to waste countless riches on shiny baubles, but should I wish to use it to pursue the things I truly love in life, it's deemed unseemly!" To the fairy's surprise, she chuckled bitterly. "If it means my freedom and true love, I'd gladly give it up. The life of a miller's daughter was beneath my mother - _not_ me," concluded resolutely.

The Blue Fairy nodded gently, sensing the genuineness of her convictions. The complication now lay in how this earlier incarnation of Regina viewed the world versus the circumstances that had changed that worldview so completely; she'd have to compare notes with Snow regarding the events that had driven that incarnation of the girl to such a dark place. Had she, as the head fairy, failed in her duties as a force of good in their realm? Could Regina have been guided down the path of light, had she intervened, or was she destined for darkness? The older she got, the more she'd come to question the lessons she'd been taught by her predecessor. Were the times she lived in less black and white, or had that fairy godmother as many regrets in her past as herself? She sighed, not able to fully keep the weariness contained, and noted the looks she received from Snow and Emma - the faces of her most recent regrets; 28 years had passed, yet it still seemed so fresh. Was the greater good worth more than the lives it and world it cost? She didn't have an answer, but she didn't blame Snow, James, and Emma for their loss of faith in her. Earning it back would take time. "Go on," she prompted Regina.

"Yes, well, at some point I stepped back and it was as if a force pulled me... down, I suppose? When I opened my eyes, I was in a forest, next to a well. The one just outside town." The Blue Fairy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, only further increasing Regina's discomfort. Strangely, as if she'd sensed Regina was ill at ease, the fairy quickly, if subtly, shifted back to a more casual posture. "A-anyway, it was then that I noticed that my clothes and hair had changed - my whole appearance, I guess, though I didn't know it at the time. I made my way down the path after that, though I confess I didn't know exactly where I was going..." She continued, relaying her discovery of her car, the road into town, and the rest, ending with her acceptance that she was, at least for the moment, safest with Snow and her family.

The Blue Fairy nodded solemnly. "I see. Well, it's apparent that some powerful magic is at play."

"The wishing well?" asked Emma, recalling what August had said of its magical properties. The proposition that Rumpelstiltskin had used it to bring back magic had been floated, and was a favorite theory among those who had had dealings with magic, but the former imp and Belle were staying silent on the issue - which was really all the proof Emma needed, especially in light of the fact that with his powers back there was no forcing Rumpelstiltskin into anything he didn't want to do. Much of their energies had been spent speculating as to how to bend him into telling them what he knew, with no success as of yet. August was inclined to agree with the well theory, but also knew that when he'd taken Emma for a drink from the well, he'd been using the story surrounding it to fake a magical event to make her believe. The waters certainly hadn't restored his status as a fully real man.

"Perhaps. If the waters of Nostros do indeed flow in the well, it is certainly possible that its restoration powers still work, now that magic has returned. But any conclusion I posit now would simply be speculation - unless Regina would submit to an examination." She studied the other woman's eyes closely, looking for any flash of hostility at the suggestion, for the woman would certainly know how the unpleasant side effects of blue magic mixing with dark. There was none.

Regina simply nodded earnestly. "If that will help you, then be my guest. I've nothing to hide." She wasn't sure what it was about the fairy that compelled her to say as much, but as it was the truth, she didn't think much of it.

The Blue Fairy stood up and motioned for Regina to join her. When she stood before her, the fairy held her hands out, palms up. "Give me your hands please." Regina complied as she tried to convince herself that butterflies in her stomach were unwarranted. Still, her natural reaction was to be wary of magic. She searched back into her memory, of the song the servant's children would sing - until Cora had banned it, anyway. _'A beacon of hope in darkest of nights, The blue star from which purest desires alight, She is kind to those love, Secret wish known up above, If your heart is in your dream, No request is too extreme.' _Had she been tainted at birth by her mother's blood, that her dreams weren't worthy? Or had they known Daniel would come into her life and give her all her heart desired? She pushed these thoughts back, refocusing on the rhyme to quell her nerves.

As their palms touched it felt as if a biting, tingling sensation was running through her veins. It began to spread, reminding her of a limb falling asleep, except it encapsulated her whole body - except, strangely, her heart. She looked over at Snow, who had her hands clasped tightly together, resting at her waist. Her brows knit together as she watched the pair, but otherwise showed no emotion. Emma, an arm wrapped around Henry's shoulder, and he almost snuggled into her, studied the scene closely, but neither seemed to know exactly what was going on, or what to expect.

The tingling subsided in intensity, bringing her attention back to the Blue Fairy. "There's a... blockage, or... a shield perhaps? It's hard to describe in words, especially to those who don't practice magic." She studied Regina's eyes, and the woman once again felt as if she were being weighed and measured. "I will need to go deeper." She squeezed Regina's hands reassuringly. "This may be uncomfortable, or even painful. But please, don't let go. You must believe me when I tell you that suddenly severing the braid would not only hurt more, but could permanently injure one or both of us. Do you understand?" Regina swallowed nervously and gave her an affirmative nod. She'd felt the tendrils of her mother's magic take hold of her very essence before - thankfully, it was a rare event which her mother reserved for what she viewed as the most egregious offenses.

The Blue Fairy closed her eyes, and Regina followed suit, despite not being instructed to do so. The former mother superior took a deep breath and reached out with her magic fully now and the familiar tingle that came with braiding two life forces together crackled under her skin. Much as a weaver at a loom would interlace weft yarn with warp yarn, she threaded the magical threads surrounding herself into those around Regina, mentally checking and adjusting to create a tight bond between each other. As she wove more threads, their energies combined, creating a bond which allowed her to sense the very essence of the fabric of the woman's magical essence. All beings, in a world with magic, were entwined its energy - it was how the magic of true love's kiss could be harnessed by non-magical beings - and allowed her to sense changes to the pattern like a spider senses the vibrations of an insect caught in a strand of its web.

She had been bracing herself, feeling around slowly as she wove, expecting the threads of dark magic that gave Regina her power to spark when braided together with her own blue magic, but the deeper she got, the more mystified she became. If Regina had indeed used been able to tap into her powers, the dark threads should have been part and parcel with the woman's life energy. Yet, it was absent. She seemed as free of it as any mortal being. Puzzled, the fairy plowed forward, weaving their bond tighter, working faster as she became more confident of its absence. It had to be somewhere.

As the Blue Fairy worked, Regina felt the tingling return in full force. She felt as if every nerve was positively vibrating with energy. The feeling ebbed and flowed and somehow she knew it was the fairy she was feeling; pausing, assessing, then moving onward. It reminded her of a fox hound tracking its prey. After an especially long ebb she was suddenly greeting by an intense flash of the sensation and it suddenly felt as if her whole being seized up, as if she might explode or simply be dissolved by the sheer energy of it. Her grip on the fairy became vise-like, her knuckles white, invoking a gasp from Snow, but the two women caught in the thrall of it noticed neither. Just as suddenly, the feeling disappeared from everywhere in Regina's body, seeming to have been redirected fully around her heart. She gasped as it tightened, squeezing and probing the very core of her being and she nearly dropped the other woman's hands in a reflexive response. She felt the fairy's hands tighten their hold on her turn until she was able to grasp on her own again. Regina grit her teeth as she felt the blue magic sizzle against her heart, eating through it like acid. Like a balm to a burn, she felt another kind of energy seep through, jus barely ebbing the pain back.

The Blue Fairy had, at last, found what she sought, and she felt the other woman tense up, her essence kicking back like a wild stallion when her blue magic touched Regina's black. She hadn't expected what she found, and truly, hadn't encountered anything like it in her life. The thing she'd touched was something she had only read about; an ancient magical construct meant to bind and isolate the ethereal energies that made up all things immaterial. Just as when oil meets flame, the fairy's own blue magic flared and singed the threads of the braid she'd finely crafted between the two just moments before, but she pushed this to the back of her mind. Only centuries of practiced discipline made this possible for her and she reached out to Regina's mind, attempting to act as a salve for the woman who surely had no such technique at her disposal. When she was satisfied that she'd brought Regina back from the brink refocused for the final push.

She had to be careful now, as she attempted to push past the membrane of the ethereal construct which bound some part of Regina inside; careful to not break the barrier, or even weaken it, as she didn't know what was being quarantined inside. She did, however, know that it was where she would find the answers she sought. She methodically worked at the gossamer fabric that made up the construct, delicately pushing aside the threads as someone might widen the hole in a chain link fence without cutting the wires. The weave was remarkably tight; a density of threads she'd only seen before in the magical fabric that made up the essence of living beings, and as such, the process was methodical and slow going, but eventually she'd created a large enough gap in the weave to reach inside and touch that which was contained within.

All the dark magic she'd been expecting to find woven into Regina's essence was condensed inside and it zapped the Blue Fairy like an electrical charge with the contact. She'd nearly sprung back in reflex, but managed to regain control of herself before she'd fully retreated out of the inlet she'd created. It was designed to snap back into place the moment she withdrew, so as to not weaken the weave, but she wasn't sure she'd have the energy to recreate it immediately if she'd allowed that to happen.

Simply isolating the dark magic from the rest of Regina's being shouldn't have taken her memories. There was something more at play here, and she meant to find it. Carefully, she skimmed the surface of dark magical energy swirling inside, skipping across like a stone across a pond. She didn't dare delve directly further, lest she fry them both, like hooking a positive change to a negative one. Finally, she found it; a thread not composed of dark magic, frayed just enough to let her incorporate it into the braid connecting herself and Regina. In a flash, images flickered in her head, visions of Regina's past. It was an incomplete picture, as the thread itself had somehow been damaged, but it was enough.

Snow, Emma, and Henry jumped as both Regina and the Blue Fairy gasped as if coming up for air after an especially deep dive underwater, breaking nearly 15 minutes of silence. The pair remained holding hands as their eyes popped open, and they remained still for a moment before the fairy released Regina. Both sunk down, nearly collapsing into the seats they'd been sitting in previously. While Regina's eyes looked almost glassy, as she was most certainly in a daze, the fairy recovered much more quickly, her face now a mask of concern.

She turned to the three, regarding them seriously. "I'll need time to digest what I saw and make sense of it, but I can say for certain that this wasn't the work of dark magic. Everything thread that had been woven into the fabric of Regina's essence - that which makes us what as we are up to that moment of our life - has somehow been removed and isolated."

"Ok, so it's been destroyed?" asked Emma. She was doing the best to follow what the Blue Fairy was saying, but felt she was barely grasping the heart of it.

The fairy shook her head. "No. It's been contained - quarantined from the rest of her. The essence of a person can never be removed without dire consequences. And destroying it will unravel their lifeforce completely, just as you saw with Sheriff Graham," she explained, a genuine tinge of sadness to her tone. "This is, in essence, how dark magic may remove the 'heart' of a person."

"But you said it wasn't the work of dark magic?" replied Snow.

"It isn't. The means by which it is accomplished determines the effect on the person to whom it is applied. Take what Rumpelstiltskin's potion to take away your love did to you, Snow White. You still carried all that he separated from you, yet you were a completely different person." Regina's attention was drawn back into focus at this remark as she wondered what could have driven Snow to make a deal with the imp? Snow nodded solemnly but offered no other reply. "However this was done, it could not have been done by Regina directly - one cannot unweave the threads of one's own essence. I could find no trace of the taint of darkness anywhere within Regina, except that which was bound by the spell."

"Right," replied Emma. "So are you telling me that you can't tell how or why this happened?"

"No, not at all. I can tell you that the magic of the water of Nostros were most certainly threaded through the fabric which contains her memories and the dark magic."

"Is it possible to retrieve those without releasing the darkness back into me?" asked Regina.

The Blue Fairy looked at her with sympathy. "That, I don't yet know, I'm sorry. This is a very rare form of spellcraft." She sighed. "If I only had access to our chronicles, I might have an answer."

"Chronicles?" asked Emma.

"A record of our history, and of the crafting of enchantments. But the curse took that from us," she replied, her voice tinged with bitter sadness.

"Try the library," suggested Henry. "Lots of stuff from the Enchanted Forest came through to here, right? So if it's anywhere, it seems like it should be locked away in the library."

The fairy smiled warmly at the boy. "I see you have your mother and grandmother's wits." She looked up at one of the young fairies standing in the doorway. "Assemble anyone you can spare and send them to the library - with any luck, we'll find the Chronicle there." The fairy bowed before quickly disappearing on her errand. "As it is, the only person who would have any experience with this would be Rumpelstiltskin. From what what I saw, he is tied into Regina's fate far more than we ever realized." Regina's core went cold at this. She had vowed to herself to never make the mistake her mother had; to never make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin.

"Hold on, that's it? That's all you have for us?" said Emma incredulously.

"For now. But rest assured, you were right, and this all must be handled delicately. Once I've sorted through the visions, and hopefully consulted the Chronicle, I'll be able to recommend a course of direction. In the meantime, Regina, you must do your best to keep hold of your emotions. There is a great power inside you, and though I cannot tell you how it came to be there, you must do your best to leave it untouched. You tapped into it earlier, and while it was harmless enough that time, should you actively wish to lash out you may do far greater harm you ever intend to, and I fear simply unraveling the barrier separating you from that darkness tucked away deep inside you could unleash a torrent of dark energy the likes of which we haven't seen in 28 years." Regina frowned at this remark, though the number seemed to carry a heavy significance for everyone else. She made note of this information, adding it to her mental catalogue of maddening clues. The fairy turned to Snow and Emma. "Would you two please join me outside for a moment? There are a few delicate points that I must go over with you."

The pair got up and followed the Blue Fairy outside, leaving Regina to feel like a child, not yet ready for to be included in matters of import. A wave of frustration rose in, even as she understood what the fairy had explained. No matter where, or apparently what time, she found herself in, it seemed she was powerless to control her destiny. She longed to take the reins of her fate into her own hands and yearning to be back in the moment she'd been ripped from - the moment she and her beloved were going to strike out into the world and blaze their own trail. But that wasn't going to happen - there was no going back, and she was getting the feeling that her dream of a life with Daniel had somehow never come to pass at all. Nonetheless, she resolved in that moment that she would get some answers about his and Cora's whereabouts sooner rather than later, if it was the last thing she did.

She looked down at the boy sitting beside her and realized he'd been silent for what she judged to be an uncharacteristically long amount of time and found him scribbling away on small pad of paper. "And just what are you working on?" she asked, forcing what levity she could manage into her voice.

Henry didn't look up as he continued writing. "Outline for a new mission. I need to get down the objectives and first clues before I forget the details."

"Mission?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, like a quest. Or maybe you'd call it a battle plan?"

"Oh? So it's some kind of military objective?" she asked, genuinely charmed at the boy's genuine belief in his importance in adult matters.

"Yep. It's kind of like in your realm, there's like, 'The Battle of Goblin Hill' or 'The Battle of the Iron Reaches', except around here we call them 'operations'."

"Well, then. What's will the name of this one be?"

He looked up at her with a smile. "Well, duh. Operation Mongoose."

While she didn't know what 'duh' meant, she recognized sass in his tone and gave him an appraising look, causing Henry to shrink back. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to get smart with your elders? " she asked.

Henry's face dropped, just as it had earlier at the sheriff's station, once again leaving Regina genuinely sorry for upsetting the boy, as well as wondering if she had unintentionally been too harsh with with the boy. _'What in the gods did his mother do to him to have left such an intelligent boy so emotionally fragile?' _she wondered. _'Come to think of it, who __**was **__his mother?' _Surely it had to be Snow or Emma, but then, he called both by their first names. Perhaps he was adopted? If that was the case, she resolved, she wouldn't broach the subject with until the boy wasn't present, in case it was a sore subject. "Hey, I'm sorry. That's none of my business. So, how about you tell me about Operation Goose while we wait?"

Henry shook his head. "That's okay - you can't help it right now... It's Operation _Mon_goose, though. Do you have those I'm your realm?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he dove right into his outline for this new stage in setting things right, without actually mentioning the curse, filling the time as the pair waited on Emma and Snow's return.


	8. The Blue Fairy's Green Thumb

**Chapter 8: **The Blue Fairy's Green Thumb

Snow and Emma followed the Blue Fairy as she slowly walked along the edge of the abbey's vegetable garden, fingers idly brushing the leaves and blossoms of various plants, clearly collecting her thoughts. Despite the fact that her skin no longer shimmered with fairy dust, the absence of wings, or anything else that would identify her as a magical creature not of this world, the Blue Fairy somehow still carried an air of the mystical. Much as Mary Margaret's carriage of herself had changed with the awakening of Snow, the fairy came as close to gliding as one could in this mundane world. Fairy dust was not like pixie dust, and didn't enable flight for the wingless; without their wings, the fairies of Storybrooke would be keeping both feet on the ground for the foreseeable future. Like most people, nuns generally gave off an aura of the divine for Emma - when they weren't tenderizing the knuckles of naughty school children, anyway - and she supposed the fairy's merging with Mother Superior was to be credited with imbuing her with the beatific presence native to _this_ world.

Whatever the cause, despite their eagerness to form a plan of action, neither Emma nor Snow felt it was appropriate to speak until the fairy had - which was unusual for both women. The Blue Fairy paused at a leafy green plant that was well over five feet tall and heavy with ripening tomatoes. The former nun gently lifted an especially large tomato, whose deep, brilliantly red color promised a juicy, flavorful fruit. "Back home most people believed the fruit of these plants to be toxic - deadly even," she said, finally.

Snow nodded, but Emma looked incredulous. "Tomatoes?" she asked.

The fairy looked up. "Yes. I believe the same was true in your own world centuries ago. The most pleasure I had as Mother Superior was the gratification of tending to this garden - nurturing these plants and guiding their growth. I find it's made me something of a horticulturalist," she added as an aside. "I realize, now, of course, that it was the closest thing in this word, in the life Regina gave me, to my calling in our homeland." She gave them a melancholic smile and turned back to the plant. "The tomato is a member of the nightshade family of plants."

"Wait - like the poison?" asked Emma.

The fairy nodded. "There are many perfectly nutritious foods that flower from the deadliest roots. The leaves of this plant, are, for instance, quite toxic when ingested, even though the tomato is harmless. Even deadly nightshade has its therapeutic uses, it is simply a matter of knowing how to use it."

Emma crossed her arms. "Is there a point to this, Obi Wan?"

Had this been a week ago, Snow would have had words for her daughter for disrespecting the woman who had made it possible for them to save Emma. But this was now, and she'd learned of the deal the fairy had struck with Gepetto behind her and James's back. She sympathized with Gepetto's desire to save his son, and so while she was angry, she could forgive him. The Blue Fairy, on the other hand, had quite simply betrayed them. She'd done as she thought best with no respect for Snow and James's ability to make the hard choice - or even talk Gepetto out of it. She may have been one of the oldest beings in the Enchanted Forest, but she had shown Snow that with age came not only wisdom, but arrogance - as if the fairy was the only adult in a world of children. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as they say, but it had been the most innocent of all, her Emma - her _baby_ - who had been sent down that road, with nothing more than a 7 year old boy and a blanket to protect her. So, if Emma felt like slinging a little attitude the fairy's way, if was fine by her. All things considered, as far as Snow was concerned, Emma had been shockingly nice about the whole thing. She felt a small swelling of pride rise up in her for her daughter - for all the tough bravado, Emma was as kind a person as the blond had ever insisted Mary Margaret was.

There was a flash of irritation in the Blue Fairy's eyes, for just a moment, at Emma's flippant hostility. She wasn't used to being disrespected, in either world, but she also knew Emma had every right to her anger, even if she believed that it wasn't her fault that Gepetto didn't follow her orders and tell Snow and James when the situation changed. "I was coming to that. You see, as a plant grows, it must be directed to take the shape the gardener wants if it's to grow healthfully. With that guidance they can overgrow, strangling its neighbors, or not reach its full potential. You pinch off some blossoms on a vine so the ones you wish to keep yield larger, better fruit. You prune back branches to direct growth in the way you wish it. People are not so different from a tomato plant. Children are encouraged in some areas, discouraged in others; their growth is influenced by the people in their lives, just as a garden is planted in a way that pairs plants that complement each other. Just because they come from the nightshade family, doesn't mean they must be deadly. Clippings from the most dangerous blossoms can produce the most wondrous fruit, if married with the proper plant."

"All beings have a natural tendency towards the dark or the light. It's our experiences, and the choices we make when challenged, that ultimately determine if we will follow that path, or another. Just as Emma is pure of heart, she strayed from that path because she was dealt so difficult a hand. So it was for Regina."

"So, you're saying she's good at heart?" asked Snow, not sure if she was hoping for or against the ruling. Was it more tragic to carry a heart of darkness, or to have a pure heart twisted and rotten by life's cruelties?

"Not at all," replied the fairy.

"So... she's evil at heart," concluded Emma.

"No. She's neither - which contrary to what this world's fairy tales would imply, was not uncommon in our realm. Every story of redemption must start with damning deed, after all. You were born of the truest, purest love, Emma; Regina was born of the deceit and greed of one parent and the pure devotion and love of another. She carries her father's earnest heart, but it is stained by her mother's selfishness. As she grew, the good of her father's heart grew with her, while the taint of her mother did not. It is a part of her and can never be removed, but it _can _be starved of that from which evil grows. You experienced the mirror of that with Rumpelstiltskin's potion, Snow. A heart made up of holes instead of love will twist even the kindest soul. Had certain forces not been at play she could have easily overcome the darkness - and was on the path to do that, thanks to Daniel."

"Who's Daniel?" asked Emma.

Snow's brow knit. "Her true love. A stable boy..."

"So, what did he do? Break her heart or something?" The sudden shift to deep guilt on Snow's face caught Emma off guard. "What? What is it?" Since breaking the curse Emma had read Henry's story book from cover to cover. She figured that was the closest she would get to background checks on various Storybrooke citizens; she was determined not to be caught off-guard again. But there was no mention of Regina by her real name in the book - her story starts when she'd already become 'The Evil Queen', and truthfully, Emma had never thought to ask how it had happened - even if she knew that the real versions of these events were a far cry from the two-dimensional Disney versions.

Snow sighed. What little family time she'd managed in the last week had mostly consisted of James and herself simply trying to build some kind of familial relationship with Emma. What they had shared of their past lives had mostly been from Henry's questions. She and James had asked Emma about her life growing up as well, but Emma herself seemed to avoid bringing up anything to do with the Enchanted Forest that wasn't relevant to her duties as sheriff. She hadn't pushed the issue, as Emma had made it clear she was suffering from 'information overload' as she called it. And that was fine; truly, she had feared worse going into the curse - a daughter embittered by being abandoned; a daughter so foreign, from being raised in a terrible world, that they would share nothing. Not in her wildest dreams did she think she'd unknowingly become best friends with her own daughter.

Of course, there was also the fact that there were a number of things in her own past that she'd rather avoid sharing. As much as Emma feared her parents disappointment at her past, Snow felt the same. She could hardly believe that Emma had forgiven her parents so readily - she couldn't expect her daughter to 'understand' any other regrettable incidents from her parent's past. "Regina and I met when she saved my life." Emma's eyebrows shot up, but she stayed silent. "When I was a small girl I was travelling with my father across the kingdom. As we were passing through the Duchy of Alys, her parent's land, chance had it that my horse went wild. For saving my life, my father, seeking a caring mother for me, proposed to Regina - and her mother accepted, not sparing a thought for her daughter's wishes. That evening I stumbled upon the two as they were kissing. Being a child, I didn't understand the nature of romantic love - I expected her to love my father as I did, simply because he was a good, kind man." She shook her head. "I was too young to see just how young Regina herself was. To be married to an old man... my father meant well, but he suffered from the same affliction of many aging men - blindness to their own reflection. He still saw the dashing prince of his youth. But, even if he had been young, it wouldn't have mattered. Regina had already found her true love in her family's stable boy, Daniel. She explained to me that love was the most powerful magic of all, and romantic love didn't work the same way as the love between family. I promised I wouldn't tell her mother of the affair." She sighed, closing her eyes.

Emma had never thought to ask why the Evil Queen hated Snow so much - nor why Regina framed Mary Margaret for murder. After all, not only had Emma done nothing to the woman - she'd actually given her the son she claimed to love, but she was still the target of the woman's scorn. Of course, this was before she'd known, well, believed, she was Snow White's daughter. Nonetheless, it didn't occur to her until that moment to reframe the circumstances in her mind. "But you did, anyway."

"Yes," replied Snow quietly, her gaze wandering across the garden, but seeing nothing. "Her mother tricked me into telling her what Regina and Daniel were planning by claiming she didn't want to lose her daughter. I thought I was helping - I believed that no one should have to live without a mother's love if they had the choice. Little did I know that Regina never really had a mother. At least not the love of one. So you see, Regina has every right to be angry. I betrayed her trust and she and Daniel paid dearly; _everyone_ has paid dearly for that mistake." She swallowed hard and looked up to lock eyes with Emma. She shook her head as she pursed her lips in a bitter, regretful smile. "All because I didn't want her to lose her mother like I lost mine. I didn't think anyone deserved to lose their mother. But we all know how _that _turned out."

Emma's heart stung at the sentiment. She flashed back to the times had she told Mary Margaret that all she wished for was as a child was a family; how she'd given up Henry so that he would be guaranteed a home and the mother that she wasn't ready to be - because she didn't know what a mother really was; she'd never had one. How hard she'd fought to make sure those two orphaned kids didn't end up in the system, living the same miserable experience she had. Only in her case, unlike Snow's, her good intentions had worked out. Well, in a fashion, anyway. Snow surely remembered it all, leaving Emma feeling guilty for adding to Snow's burden. A burden that wasn't fair, anyway. "You can't seriously think you're responsible for all of this, can you? You were a kid - a kid trying to do the right thing."

The bitterness drained out of Snow's expression, leaving guilt and sadness laid bare. "Charming and Red have said as much many times over, but intentional or not, if I'd kept my word, we wouldn't be standing here."

"Damn straight we wouldn't. Because you probably never would have met your true love, and never had me. There would be no Henry, either." She searched Snow's eyes for some hint that she'd gotten through to her. "So, as awful a lot of the consequences have been, I, for one, am glad you did what you did. It may be selfish, but I kinda like existing. I would think if anyone knew how to appreciate the silver lining, it would be you." She offered Snow a smile, and was pleased to see her mother return it. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was a start.

"I try - really, I do. But sometimes it feels like the most wonderful things in my life were at the expense of Regina's happiness - not to mention Daniel's life."

"Yeah... I think you paid that debt when she murdered your father," replied Emma darkly.

"Emma is correct," the Blue Fairy added. "Evil isn't borne out of tragedy, but the decisions we make when faced with that adversity. Do we choose to heal or nurse our wounds at the expense of others? Your actions were borne out of selflessness. As much as you wished for a mother, you valued the happiness of a woman you'd just met even more. The dark curse is borne of the ultimate in _selfish_ness." She glanced back at the abbey, staring as if she could see through walls. "The woman inside there hasn't made any of those choices yet. Her heart has been restored, for the time being. As long as the dark magic remains locked away inside her, she is free from the decisions she made that ate away at her heart. She isn't the same woman who cursed us. You could say she's now as free from her mother's curse as we are from her's - bound up with it but free. We remain bound to Storybrooke, she continues carrying the darkness caged in her heart."

Snow frowned. "I'm not saying it makes sense. I'm simply saying that the moment I broke my word was the moment that Regina's life was put on a terrible trajectory," said Snow. "It's no surprise to me that she sees me as the catalyst - child or not, I betrayed her. Erased memories or not, she's going to find out what happened to Daniel eventually. What _I _did. And it will start all over again." The realization of the inevitable settled on Snow's heart like a lead weight.

"It's not as simple as that," said the Blue Fairy.

"How do you mean?" asked Emma.

The fairy sighed, her expression turning to a frown. "As I said before, it is still a jumble. I will need time to sort through it all, but as far as I can make sense of it, Regina was faced with a choice of some kind. Something to do with her mother, magic, and your mother."

Emma and Snow exchanged worried looks. "What kind of choice? I don't recall anything of the sort - I haven't even seen her mother since I was barely a teenager."

"I haven't any more than that at the moment, I'm afraid. But I believe it ties to Rumpelstiltskin."

"What a shock!" Emma exclaimed sarcastically.

"I advise you speak with him. As _soon_ as possible," the fairy replied gravely. "If what I am piecing together from Regina's memories are correct, she may be just as much a pawn in this as any of us - with her and Emma being the final pieces in a plan set in motion centuries ago. And perhaps, without the influence of her mother, the sadnesses in her life need not corrupt Regina this time."

"Whoa - wait. Are you implying that weasel Gold is, like, immortal or something?" exclaimed Emma.

The fairy simply smiled mysteriously in response. "And how old do you think _I_ am?"

Emma shrugged. "You're a fairy. That's different," replied Emma. _'Did I really just say that with a straight face? I'm starting to sound like Henry. But the, he'd been right after all.' _ She could feel Snow's eyes on her and found the woman smiling proudly at her. "What?"

Snow gave her a small nod. "Oh nothing - just that I think you might be up to all this 'fairy tale nonsense' after all," she teased, making air quotes as she used a phrase Emma had taken to muttering in the past week when she was feeling overwhelmed - or just overworked.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I have to like it," Emma replied lamely.

Snow patted her on the shoulder. "Did I ever say_ I _did? I took back the throne out of necessity, not desire to rule." She paused, cocking her head to one side. "The castles and feasts were pretty nice, of course. But so is indoor plumbing," she said with a wink. Truth be told, this world was just as much home for her as the Enchanted Forest. She'd lived just as long in both, and home was family - not where you lived. She knew she wasn't the only one who felt this way. Charming felt the same, but there were plenty who did not. It was for those people that she would do her damndest to find a way back. But if Emma wanted to stay here, then she did too. A world without magic was a world without evil magical beings using people to their own ends. Certainly there was evil in this world, but she felt like she at least was on even footing in that case. Love was all the magic she needed.

"We magical beings aren't immortal, simply long-lived. Some of us are born to it, some acquire it. When Rumpelstiltskin took in the essence of the Dark One, his chase with time slowed, giving him lifetimes to put right the one misdeed he will ever admit to."

"And that would be...?" asked Emma.

"Losing his son to a land where he would be free from the Dark One's magic." She let the statement hang in the air. She knew the time had come - the time to practice as she preached, as it was said in this world. To be brave, selfless and true. "Where I sent him."

Emma blinked, wondering if she had heard that correctly. "Are you saying you took his _son?_" The Blue Fairy nodded. "To this world," Emma stated, filling in the blank.

"His son called to me. Normally, we do not answer the calls of those associated with dark forces-"

"Not even children?" asked Emma.

"Regina..." Snow said in a low voice.

"It has been forbidden since before my time, its origins lost to the mists of time. We fairies learned long ago that interfering in the lives of those closely tied to dark powers brings revenge down upon us. It starts the kind of wars that make the Ogre Wars look like a schoolyard fight, punishing everyone. It was decided that it was for the best if we leave those lives to grow as they will."

"So, what? Those kids who need the most help, who need you to cut out the bad seeds in their lives - screw 'em? Too much trouble? Nice," remarked Emma sarcastically.

"You don't understand the consequences that can arise when making a move against dark-"

"She may not, but I _most_ _certainly_ do," Snow practically growled. "We're in this situation because of a few 'gardeners' on _both_ sides, and their overzealous pruning and I, for one, am tired of being manipulated. True happy endings are hard won - not magicked into existence. That goes for this world _and_ our home. Magical shortcuts created Cora, and Regina, and gave them power without developing the character built by honest work to temper them. Power comes at a price, and if that price isn't hard work, then..." She left the thought unfinished. "It was the work of a fairy godmother that ultimately took my mother -"

"A fairy twisted to the dark by fae magic-" the Blue Fairy interrupted.

Snow plowed forward, rolling right over the fairy's protestations. "-and it wasn't by any guidance that David and I found each other." One irony of the curse had been that Charming's birth name had been restored, James having been his twin brother's identity. "It was by their_ own_ hands that Ella and Thomas secured their happy ending."

"Those were the actions of the Dark One. You can't-"

"Oh, _yes_ I can. It's all the same - the powerful manipulating the lives of the less powerful, using us as unwitting players in some larger game." Her eyes narrowed. "Come to think of it, it wasn't until we followed your plan that we lost_ our _happy ending!" She glanced at Emma. "That we lost our daughter. Just what _is_ your endgame, anyway?"

"There is no end game. We simply exist to nurture the good in the world. To help those pure of heart," the fairy replied.

"And who decides who's worthy? _You_?" asked Emma skeptically.

"Yes, I suppose - but it's not as arbitrary as it seems."

"I should hope not," replied Snow darkly.

"We don't choose whose wishes we hear - that's just the way the magic works. Why, this is has been a subject of great thought and study for as long as we can remember - trying to discover the nature of our existence."

"But you just said you won't help certain people -" said Emma. "Are you seriously so arrogant that you think you know better than some mystical force that you don't even understand?!" She rolled her eyes. Despite being one herself now, Emma still carried a supreme distrust of authority figures. Having spent her childhood subject to unyielding arbitrary laws doled out by uncaring state employees had robbed her of the illusion of the infallible wisdom of adults at an exceptionally young age. Now, she was quickly realizing that the lesson applied to fairies as well.

"It was breaking that rule that resulted in this curse!" replied the fairy hotly. "Had I not acted, had I not thought I knew better, and let that boy continue to be corrupted and lose his father, Rumpelstiltskin would have had no reason to manipulate events the way he has! So - you see why the rule was put in place." Her face was flushed red with suppressed anger - at being accused of acting selfishly, at the curse, at the imp, and most of all, herself.

"Perhaps not," replied Snow, deadly quiet. "But what else would he have done? It could have been worse than this, even. You know as well as I, probably better, what was happening to the magic in our world. Desperation can turn even the best of us into monsters. What kind of war would result when a son must stop his father?"

"Or join him," replied the fairy, equally quiet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Emma.

"The boy had been touched by darkness. Not just his life, but his soul. It was tainted."

Emma shrugged. "Can't you just, like, heal that or something?"

The Blue Fairy shook her head. "No. Blue magic reacts to black - violently so."

"Like vinegar and baking soda in a science fair volcano," Snow supplied in explanation to Emma. "Only much more... destructive."

The fairy nodded. "It's the same reason that Regina cannot be separated from the darkness inherited from her mother. Not without risking both our lives." She sighed. "King George had enslaved the previous carrier of the Dark One's magic, but in taking his power, Rumpelstiltskin freed Him from the thrall of the king. With no one controlling Him but the desperate soul He inhabits, the Dark One became much more dangerous that He had been in generations. His son, Baelfire, had been tainted by the darkness thanks to his father using it to heal him. If he were raised by such a twisted creature, there was no telling what they would reap together. I saw the boy as a chance to rid our world of the darkest of threats, and free Rumpelstiltskin and his boy in the I underestimated just how powerful a grip the weaver's fear had on his heart. Thanks to the thrall of the Dark One, his fear outweighed his love for his son. And so, Baelfire was taken to this world without his father."

"But that was ages ago," replied Snow. "How can he hope to find him here? Surely he must have lived his life and passed away countless years ago."

The fairy shook her head. "The bonds of time are looser between worlds. If one knows what they're doing, they can choose their destination - not just place, but time. I believe it's how Regina was able to retrieve the same apple she used on you, Snow, that poisoned Henry. Or so Jefferson implied. He has yet to be terribly forthcoming." Emma had had the forethought to realize that Jefferson would want to reunite with his daughter as soon as possible once the curse had lifted, and had had the girl taken into custody immediately. As one of the few who knew of the curse before it lifted, she knew he would be a crucial source of information. She didn't like using a child as a bartering chip, but had little choice. She had turned over the girl in exchange for his hat - a guarantee that he wouldn't run - and he had readily agreed. What Emma had not anticipated was Jefferson's intense fear of Regina. Getting him to give up her secrets had been like pulling teeth, as he was waiting to see "how this plays out". So, she had moved the pair into the abbey, in hopes that the fairies could slowly milk information from him.

"So... you're saying that theoretically, I could pop over to your fairy tale realm and say hi to my folks before I was even born?" asked Emma incredulously.

"I suppose so," replied the fairy. "But consequences of such actions would be unpredictable. It's inadvisable for many reasons."

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen 'Back to the Future'," replied Emma. She shot Snow a smirk. "Sorry, guess you're not getting any visits from a mysterious, yet _strangely _familiar, woman who makes sure your pregnancy goes smoothly." She had found herself turning to humor more and more frequently since the curse had broken, as she discovered that Snow and James had a tendency to let their situation - the guilt, the especially - hang heavy on their shoulders. It was a survival skill she'd developed in the the foster system; usually to help younger kids, but also to break tension in homes. She found that a foster parent was much less likely to punish the kid who made them smile.

"Who says I didn't?" replied Snow seriously.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Snow stared at her with a stony face, but soon a smile broke across her lips. "No!" She shook her head. "Gullible - just like Charming," she teased.

"Really?" Emma slapped the other woman's shoulder. "_That_ makes me gullible? Do you not realize how ridiculous most of your world sounds? Giant beanstalks and fairies and dwarves hatching from eggs?"

"I prefer the term 'fantastic' to ridiculous," replied Snow wrly.

Emma shrugged. "Well, whatever you call it," she turned back to the fairy. "I think this may be the most 'fantastic' thing I've heard so far. If I'm following you correctly, you're saying that Rumpelstiltskin's son is out there in this world somewhere, just living his life?"

Blue nodded. "The true mystery is why he hasn't found him yet. Though I suspect his fear continues to rule his heart."

"Why do you say that?" asked Snow.

"Before the curse broke he came asking about August, who had come to me for advice. Of course, I didn't know his true identity at the time. But he seemed... almost afraid of what August had asked of me. I suspect he may not think his son wants him. And of course, we have no way of knowing how old Baelfire is now. The curse was likely crafted to bring him to where he'd find his son - but magic works in the way it chooses. It will give you what you need, but often not what you want."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" asked Emma.

"I didn't know. I had my suspicions about where the cursed would send us, but that was only after I found out that Regina got the curse from him."

"So, why didn't he just cast it himself?"

"Without knowing the nature of the curse, it would have been pure speculation on my part."

"You sound like you've got a little more than speculation to work with now," remarked Emma.

"Regina was key to so much more than I ever realized. Her memories have made that much clear. Most of it is still a haze, but a few moments blaze like the sun. Chief among them is what she had to sacrifice for the curse."

"And that would be?" asked Emma.

"That which she cares about most. Her father." Snow gasped. The man who was devotion incarnate. The one person who had stuck by her, loved her, no matter how twisted she became. Snow already felt guilty over being the reason her own father was killed. She couldn't imagine doing it with her own bare hands. As if she'd heard Snow's thoughts, the fairy continued. "She wept as she plunged her hand into his chest and ripped out his still beating heart."

"But she still did it," remarked Emma.

"And Rumplestiltskin had nothing to sacrifice," said Snow. "Nothing he loved."

"So he got Regina to do it for him," concluded Emma.

"The final move in a plot two lifetimes in the making," said the fairy. "Or so I suspect."

"Why would Regina go along with it? She's not exactly a team player - and the one inside that abbey doesn't want _anything_ to do with him," said Emma.

"She couldn't have known. I was only able to put the pieces together because I'm the one who..." She closed her eyes. "_I _gave him the idea."

"You _what?!_" Mother and daughter cried in unison.

"Inadvertently. He confronted me when Baelfire was lost - looking for a way to go after him. I said nothing, but he knew. I had no idea he'd found the way until getting a glimpse at Regina's memories. He's been plotting it all."

"Which is why we need to talk to Gold," said Emma.

"And why you can't risk jogging Regina's memory. Should she be reminded - especially just pieces like I've seen - it would devastate her. She could very well lash out - breaking down the barrier keeping the darkness at bay."

"We can't just keep her in the dark forever," replied Emma. "And even if we could, the town wants justice. What are we supposed to tell them?"

"The truth," replied Snow. "We're holding a town meeting tomorrow, and meeting with the council tonight. Your presence is requested, of course."

The Blue Fairy nodded. "I will send my fairies to the library at once. With any luck, I'll have more to tell by then."

Snow nodded, and it was clear the conversation had borne what fruits it could. The trio made their way back towards the abbey door. As the fairy reached for the knob Snow quickly extended her own hand, stopping the other woman's arm in mid-air. She locked her eyes on the fairy's in an intense gaze. "We're not through, yet. Our business. There are more pressing matters, but don't mistake distraction for forgiveness. I believed your decisions only hurt my family, but _clearly _somethingneeds to change. I won't pretend to know what the gods intended for fairies, but you've clearly strayed from the path. No one asked you to be the world's steward any more than Rumpelstiltskin - and the gods that created you aren't in this world. However things everything play out, I must trust it will be for the best, because you followed your calling instead of presuming to know better than the universe. Do you understand, Blue?"

"Yes, your Highness," replied the fairy. "I have come to realize as much. And I trust your judgement will be just - you were dubbed the fairest of them all with good reason."

Emma watched this exchange with wide eyes. She was still getting used to Snow's ability to flip between the demeanor of a girl next door to a noblewoman assured of her supremacy - and couldn't help but wonder which was closer to the truth. Most of the time she knew it was the caring, down to earth woman that resembled her old roommate - but when queen mode kicked in, it was impossible to see anything but that queen. It was still strange to think that ability to bluff that had saved her so many times in her life was something she'd inherited from the woman before her. But it was also a strange kind of comfort as well, knowing that she had been given a gift greater than a blanket to help her through this world. Her mother had left a piece of herself in Emma's very soul. She'd never truly been alone, even if she didn't know it at the time.

Snow simply nodded and dropped her hand, letting the fairy open the door. "But I must reiterate - use caution with Regina. It will likely be a few days before we can take any action," said the fairy.

"Noted," replied Emma. Without any further discussion the fairy opened the door, holding it open for the other two.

Inside, Snow and Emma found Henry pointing eagerly at one of the stained glass murals. "So, she tied him up, but it turns out Peter wasn't the wolf. _She_ was. Meanwhile, Snow and Granny were trying to find her, 'cause Granny had wolf's blood too and she knew the whole time, and knew if they didn't get there soon, Red would eat Peter!"

"We were too late," Snow interjected solemnly. "But... it's simply another example of why honesty is always the best policy, right Henry?" she said and she gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah," Henry mumbled. As much as he absolutely believed in what she'd said, it was practically reflex for an 11 year old to shrug off moralizing from adults.

"Henry's just been regaling me with your adventures. I have to say, I'd never have guessed that the innocent little girl I saved would turn out to be such a... maverick," remarked Regina. "And I'd be lying if I denied that I'm a little proud that by saving your life, I helped save those other peoples."

Snow gave her a melancholic smile. "I'd never thought of it that way..." She nodded. "But I suppose you're right."

"Just what did you tell her about, Henry?" asked Emma warily. Everything seemed fine, but Regina was Regina and she knew the former queen must have built up her emotional walls young - it took one to know one after all.

Regina crossed her arms. "Henry has been _more _than maddeningly discrete. In fact, if I hear 'you're not ready' one more time I just might scream." Her tone was light, but it belied the ever-growing unease - and frustration - in her gut. She was trying to keep a positive outlook and not jump to conclusions, but whatever her fate, it couldn't be wonderful. Most likely not even good. But until she confirmed otherwise, her heart opted for hope. Her mother would have called it denial, but hope for her and Daniel - holding on to the idea of their future together - was enough to keep the flame alive. Surely, their love had endured when all else had failed. But hearing all the half-completed truths, the hints at something terrible... she needed answers. She was not born to be led.

Snow and Emma both shot Henry approving smiles as they made their way to the front door, which he returned pridefully. This only served in raising Regina's ire. Clearly much was being hidden; children weren't encouraged to be deceptive in normal circumstances. Whatever had happened - didn't she deserve to know? It was her life after all, whether she remembered it or not. She needn't be sheltered - did she? The nods of deference to Snow and Emma, the aversion of eyes from Regina whenever she happened to look in someone's direction, and the utter silence about it all - even from the precocious child reminded her of every mystery 'dinner' her mother had hosted. Every trip which had taken them through dark, frightening woodlands that her mother brushed off as the scenic route, and the inevitable stop at some dark abode, like visiting 'Aunt' Maleficent. Oh, she'd figured it out eventually, her mother's true nature, but not before it had bred a streak of quiet desperation in heart; only growing bold when she'd had something - someone - to fight for. Only then had she resolved to not live a life of meekness like her father.

With each step down the abbey's hallway Regina felt a wave build, as she considered a lifetime of frustration at her wishes being shunted to the side by her mother; frustration that threatened to boil over in the absence of her mother's heavy hand to hold her back; yet every instinct towards decorum, bred into her by the same mother's hand, stayed in place, preventing her from crying out like an over boiled teapot. She clenched her fists and painted on a pleasant smile as they stepped out onto the abbey's porch. "Where are we bound next?"

Shadows flashed behind Snow's eyes at Regina's word choice - bound, and the fake pleasantness she'd only learned to recognize after it was too late. But she recovered in an instant and Regina simply saw that the other woman must have endured her own hardships growing up. Her rising temper ebbed for a moment as she rethought her approach.

"Home, I suppose," replied Snow. Emma gave her a skeptical look, but before she could reply a musical jingle came forth from Snow's pocket. She quickly dug out a small, black rectangle that resembled a mirror fashioned from ebony to Regina's eye. Snow's expression immediately flowered from worry to warmth when she held the device to her ear. "Hello? Charming... yes. Well? Yes... it's complicated." She nodded, seeming to listen and Regina was reminded of overhearing her mother in the depths of night, in conversation through magical means, with dark beings. This didn't seem the same, though she didn't know what else to think. Snow sighed in aggressive frustration. "I know! I know. You have any idea how crazy this is making me? Look - just - just - can you meet Henry at Regina's house?" A male voice spoke up on the other end. "Look - I can't now. Just - trust me. Okay?" Her voice was vulnerable yet confident in her request and her defensiveness deflated a moment later. "Thank you," she replied.

Snow looked up as she put away the ebony device. "So... I was thinking that given current circumstances, it would be best if Regina stayed with us for the next couple days?"

Emma crossed her arms. "It's... gonna be crowded..." She surprised herself at just how good natured the remark came out. "But it's probably for the best."

Regina bristled. "I can't just be led around by my nose forever. I'm not a hound - how long do you expect me to just follow you two like a puppy?"

"Regina-" began Snow apologetically.

"Don't," Regina shot back. "All my life it's been whispers and and shadows and others deciding my fate. And in the moment I finally make a grab - to take my happiness and my fate into my _own_ hands, I end up here! I can't take it any more! And from you?! You're a child - or, you should be-" Snow opened her mouth in some sort of retort but Regina spun around, separating herself from the group and cutting Snow off. She began backing away defensively, down the abbey's stone stairway. Her eyes were a little wild, mirroring a desperation Emma knew had shown in her own eyes when she'd pinned Regina to a wall in the hospital just a week ago. "I want to trust you -_ really_ I do, but I know there's no going back. Clearly, I didn't just arrive in the future due to some sort of magical accident - I deserve to know what's going on!"

Snow sighed, unsure of how to proceed. To her and her daughter's, surprise Emma found herself stepping up. She knelt in front of Henry. "You okay walking the rest of the way to the house alone? David should be there in a few." Henry gave Regina a worried glance, but Emma already knew the question before he asked it. "We've got it from here, kid. You can help by getting her stuff together. You still got the key, right?"

Henry shrugged and put on a brave face. "Should be a spare one in the gnome. Still, I know how to sneak in if she moved it." Emma shook her head and couldn't help the small smile he pulled out of her.

"We're gonna have to have a talk about breaking and entering at some point kiddo."

"Hey - I'm one of the good guys. I know that with great power comes great responsibility," he intoned seriously.

"Yeah? Just remember you said that when you're 16 and thinking about sneaking out to hang with your friends, will ya?" Emma replied.

"Deal - that's like, a million years from now, anyway," he remarked with an eyeroll. He gave Emma a quick hug and waved back at the other two women. "Bye Snow - bye -" his speech hitched for a second and Regina could swear a strange regretful look passed over his expression. "-uh, Regina!" With that he turned and made his way quickly down the street with the careless immediacy only found in children.

"If only mother had learned that lesson, perhaps I wouldn't find myself in this situation," Regina remarked at the retreating boy's form shrank in the distance. At Snow's questioning look, she clarified. "The responsibility of great power. This world seems to have wise men, at least."

"More like _spider_men," Emma replied lightly, receiving a confused look from Regina. She shrugged. "It's from a story... at least I think it's just a story." She pulled a face. "Whatever." She shook her head and met Regina's eyes. "Look, I get that you're frustrated and upset, but we keep things cool around the kid, got it?" Her tone was firm, but not unkind.

"Cool?" asked Regina.

"Composed," Snow clarified.

Regina nodded. "Fine. I understand." She rolled her eyes up, bitterly. "Gods know I've had plenty of lessons in _decorum_... But he's just one more question. Whose child is he? I have yet to hear him refer to anyone as his mother. And maybe this realm is different - but you're from the same place as I, Snow. I have a hard time imagining you not wanting to be called mother. I may not know you well, but I know how much you wished for one."

Snow eyes saddened at this. "You're right. And I still hold onto my hopes of being called mom one day." Her tone darkened. "But that was taken away from me." Emma's expression turned to one of guilt at this statement, to which Snow offered the woman a gentle smile, and Regina suddenly felt as if she were nosing into a private conversation. "Hey..." was all Snow said as she gave Emma's hand a squeeze. "We've talked about this. And I have yet to give you permission to feel guilty. We had a deal, right?"

Emma sighed and offered her own assent. "You're right. But it goes both ways, remember?"

A small smile twisted at the corners of the brunette's mouth. "Right."

Emma's eyes rolled back as if considering something. "I think that means you owe me a drink now. What is that now, _three_ to one?"

"Hey! I will not be held responsible for my husband's slip-ups!"

"Alright, alright."

The whole exchange reminded Regina of what she imagined having a sister to be like - and certainly not anything like her relationship with her mother. Of course, something odd had to have happened to result in a mother and child who looked to be the same age. But the exchange just hammered her back to the reality that dark magic must have been at play. "It's my mother, isn't it? This is all her doing - she finally went too far," she guessed.

Emma and Snow both realized they'd need to start giving up information, but the nature of the curse was the last place they wanted to start. "Henry is my son," replied Emma, hoping the next bit of information would sufficiently distract Regina. "And... your adopted son. I had him when I was very young and on my own. And... you adopted him."

It appeared to have worked as Regina's eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. "_My_ son?" She gazed down the street in vain for a glimpse of the boy, but he was already out of sight. "Why doesn't he...?"

With the old Regina, sharing custody seemed like a nightmare to Emma. But, if that Regina was forever lost, sharing custody with this woman didn't seem so bad. At the very least she wouldn't have enough memories to carry that sense of entitlement that the old Regina wore like a second skin.

Snow put a hand on her shoulder. "Call you mom?"

Regina nodded and then looked at Emma. "Or you, for that matter." She frowned. "He doesn't seem like a disrespectful child..." she thought aloud.

"Well, in my case..." began Emma. "We only found each other this past year. We're still getting there. Besides," she tried to shrug it off as her explanation was forcing her to verbalize certain truths for the first time. "It was already kind of his name for..."

"For me?" Regina asked, a little emotion bleeding into her voice. "It's why he shares my father's name..."

Emma nodded and cleared her throat. "He's pretty good at adapting to new... circumstances. And he knows more about your life than anyone except Snow, I'd guess. I think he knew just throwing 'mom' onto your plate, with everything else..."

Regina shook her head, a small smile creeping across her lips. "He wasn't sure I was 'ready'."

"He -_ we _are just trying to do what's right," said Snow.

"But we're kinda flying blind here, so, we're hoping you can bear with us until we figure it out," added Emma.

Snow nodded. "We'll answer what we can - I don't want you to feel like your fate isn't in your hands." Her face hardened. "We've all seen too much darkness in our lives thanks to people who think they know best," she remarked darkly, an expression that Regina wouldn't have thought possible from the cherubic woman - yet it was clearly not a stranger to her features. "As you already guessed, there's a power inside you. I can honestly say, I don't know where you got it from, but it has the potential to be quite dangerous."

"It's dark. I can feel it... inside, but not a part of me, somehow? I can feel it now, since the fairy connected with me - just sitting like a rock in my chest." Regina shook her head, her frown deepening with worried fear. Now that she was being offered the opportunity to get some answers, the thousand and one questions she'd had in the past few hours seemed to slip through her fingers like so many grains of sand. Only the first, the one that had been sitting at her lips the whole time, did she manage to voice. "Did my mother do this to me?" she asked quietly, hating the vulnerability that she displayed with it. She was angry, damnit.

Snow shook her head. "I don't know. But I'd guess she's wrapped up in it."

"But what we do know is that Rumpelstiltskin's hands are definitely in it. Blue wants us to speak with him - you can come if you want," she offered, drawing an appreciative nod from Regina. The trio began to make their way back to the sheriff's station.

"I'd rather have something to do than sit around. I've always wanted to confront the imp," she nearly spat the word.

Snow raised an eyebrow. "I never heard you speak of him," she remarked.

Regina stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, examining the ground as they walked. "Well... when I was a girl, she used to tell me that if I didn't behave - or if I wasn't doing something right - or, well, pretty much, whenever I did something she didn't like, that she'd let Rumpelstiltskin take me like he was supposed to."

"Gods..." whispered Snow.

"Wait - he was like the boogie man where you come from?" asked Emma.

Snow shook her head. "Not normally... is that how your mother got her magic? in exchange for you."

Regina shook her head. "Not exactly. But she never really told me the story. Just that she had me at great cost - and reminded me that I wasn't worth it almost every day," she said bitterly.

"I had no idea that's what that was about," Snow remarked softly to herself.

Regina looked up as a thought dawned on her. "You say that like we know each other well. Like you know my mother well..."

Snow swallowed. "We... did."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "Where is she?" she asked slowly.

Snow didn't need to ask to know she was asking about Cora. "I... don't know, really. I haven't seen her since I was fourteen. I think you two had a... falling out?"

Regina barked a laugh. "There was a relationship to fall out of?"

"Being a child, no one told me much of anything," Snow went on, ignoring the rhetorical question. "But yeah, I gathered it was something quite... unpleasant. I know your relationship with your mother was always... strained. I saw enough."

Not far from the abbey, they passed a large building, labeled 'Storybrooke Town Hall'. It was the first area with any activity that they'd seen for a while. Small groups, numbering no more than four, spoke, most so immersed in their own business that they took no notice of the three very recognizable women. It was then that Regina noticed just what a mess most people looked - like they'd neglected their own well-being for days. It reminded her of the scenes she'd taken in from her window as her carriage had travelled through a town recently sacked by ogres. The townsfolk's eyes had held the same weariness as they did their best to reassemble their lives. She'd wanted to stop - to help if they could, but Cora insisted they continue on. That tragedy bred character. Regina's eyes drifted over the scene and she was drawn to a red-headed woman, hair haphazardly pulled away from her face, an infant on her back. The woman was posting a piece of paper with a hand-drawn man's portrait to a board already covered on both sides with signs that resembled wanted posters - but these were all under a green sign, clearly just placed there, that simply read 'The Missing'.

Regina frowned, her demeanor suddenly darkening. "Where's his father?"

"Henry?" asked Emma and Regina nodded. "I don't really know - I never even told him I was pregnant."

"No," replied Regina, simply, fearing to ask the question. Snow's eyes widened as she noticed Regina absently rubbing her left ring finger. A flash of ice shot through Regina's heart. "Where's Daniel?" she asked, suddenly halting in her tracks. Snow hesitated and exchanged a look with Emma, who seemed equally unsure of what to say. "Where's Daniel?" she asked again, her voice rising as she spun around to face them. Snow raised a hand as if to comfort her but Regina slapped it away. "Where is he?! He _has _to be here!" The tears had begun, despite her best efforts, threatening to spill over her crumbling emotional walls.

"Regina-" Snow began. But she didn't know what to say.

Regina's heart was beating hard against her chest, and she could swear that core of darkness inside her burning in hot contrast against the ice in her veins. "Just tell me!" she cried out, feeling as if she might explode. "Where is he? She did it, didn't she!?" Emma took a step forward, to which Regina jumped backward. "She did it, didn't she?" Her eyes searched Snow's. "She _took_ his _heart_ - like she did my father!" Snow shook her head, sadly. "Then _where_ is he?"

"He's... not here," Snow supplied, still hoping there was a way out of this that didn't involve the very breakdown the Blue Fairy had warned them about.

"And we need to be _not here_ ASAP!" urged Emma, who was past that particular stage of optimism. She flung an arm behind Regina and gripped her shoulders as the folks milling about in front of the town hall began to take notice of them A couple nodded their approval as it appeared that the sheriff was manhandling the former queen. Emma dug her fingers into Regina's shoulders, gripping them tightly, forcing the woman to walk briskly away.

Regina dug her heels in, but it was a futile gesture against the stronger woman, especially as her mind raced. "Just say it, damnit!" she practically shouted.

As soon as they came upon what passed from an alleyway in Storybrooke - it was more just an inlet from trash pickup between buildings - Emma roughly dragged her off the sidewalk and out of the view of looky-loos, releasing her. "Are you nuts?!" she cried, forgetting for a moment whom she was talking to. "You've got enough people scared of you right now without looking like you're about to blow a gasket out there!" She flung an arm out, gesturing in the direction from which they'd just fled."The last thing you need is widowers and moms with missing kids being reminded that they're scared of you!" Emma ranted, her voice a hushed yell. Snow's eyes widened and she blanched. Emma's face quickly mirrored her mother's as she realized what she'd just said.

Regina's was beet red, though, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Even if she'd been in the right mind to respond, she herself couldn't have been sure if they were tears of anger or rage, though. "_Where_. Is. _Daniel_?" she asked again through gritted teeth, seeming to have not heard Emma's.

Snow looked upon her with such pity at that moment that she knew, her worst fears, from her most secret nightmares, were realized, and the walls came crashing down. Even as she saw Snow's lips clearly form the words, 'he died', her legs collapsed under her. Regina was vaguely aware of Emma and Snow moving to catch her, but all she saw was his face as she bound into the stables, ready to flee together.

The pair exchanged worried looks before Snow turned back to the seemingly unconscious woman. "Regina?" she shook her arm as Emma took a step back, still kneeling. Regina's eyes squeezed shut, as if in pain, but before either could react, a wall of white flame burst from Regina's form. The flame flashed out like a bubble of energy, the flame disappeared in an instant, but the wave of energy it rode on suction back in, like a deflating like a balloon. And much like being trapped in one, Emma and Snow found themselves being crushed, as if gravity had just increased ten-fold, squeezing and crushing them, unable to breath.

As she fell, she and Daniel's last moments together played behind Regina's eyelids, as if burned there. The joy at her arrival - the torchlight flickering in eyes that only saw her. She felt like she was falling again, like the moment before she'd awoken alone next to that well. Her eyes her squeezed shut, willing herself to be back in that moment, and she felt the hot tears being squeezed forth and down her cheeks. "She killed him," she whispered through gritted teeth and it felt like the dark, black fire in her chest spit forth. Images flooded her mind's eye now, just a flash, and she was vaguely aware of some kind energy pulse through her, answered with a loud crack. She saw his heart being squeezed to ash in her mother's fist, and it felt like her own was suffering the same. "She took his heart and she destroyed it! Oh _Gods_! _Daniel_!" she cried out, as if she could summon him by name alone. Her throat felt raw and burned as she let out something between a sob and a roar.

As quickly as the image had flashed, it was gone, and only vaguely remembered, like waking from a nightmare. It was then that she noticed the vise-like grip digging into her wrist, feeling very much like her mother squeezing her heart. Her eyes snapped open to see it was Snow's hand digging into her flesh. Every muscle in the woman's body seemed to be seized up, like an insect in its death throws. Behind her, Emma looked the same as she struggled to move against an invisible force. The image jolted her awake, away from the horrors of her half-remembered past, and with them, apparently the force crushing the life from Emma and Snow. The pair sagged for a moment, all their energy focused on sucking air into their lungs.

It was the smell that Regina noticed next - the acrid scent of burnt hair. The ends of both women's hair appeared singed, as were scraps of paper that littered the alleway. "Gods," was all she could say. She felt numb.

Emma pulled herself into a sitting position, one leg straight out, the other folded in front of her, her corresponding elbow rested on her knee. "So... anything else you'd like to know?" Emma asked tiredly as she regarded Regina with a raised eyebrow.

Regina shook her head silently. It was better than the look on Snow's face - a mix of regret, pity, fear - and she could swear something like repressed anger. It reminded her of the look Snow's face had worn when she was a child, trying to understand how Regina could be kissing a man who wasn't her father. On a child, the complexity had been surprising, and a little heart-breaking to think she'd been through enough in her young life to carry such feelings. But on the woman sitting a mere foot from her, it was unnerving. The confusion in her eyes were missing, instead replaced by a hardness. As if the other woman were sizing her up. It made Regina want to shrink back, even if she stubbornly refused to allow herself to, forcing herself to maintain the gaze.

And suddenly it was broken. Snow shut her eyes, squeezing the bridge of her nose, and sighed. She shook her head. "What in the God's names did you do, Regina," she remarked in a low, tired voice. She opened her eyes and pulled herself to her feet.

"I... I don't know," was the only answer Regina had, her voice rough, as if from overuse.

Snow looked up, her eyes clear now - if set to determined. "Not _you_," she said simply and extended a hand. It was a moment before Regina realized she was offering assistance. She took the hand hesitantly and Snow helped her pull herself to her feet.

She straightened her coat and blouse, using the distraction to avoid meeting the eyes trained on her. "Right... I think I just have one more question." It felt like a nightmare. She had to be sure. "What I saw... her... taking him from me..." her voice cracked.

"It's true," was all Snow said - it was all she needed to say, and was enough to send another stab of pain through her heart.

"What just happened?" Regina looked up, her eyes reminding Snow of a frightened animal.

It brought to mind the moment she'd inadvertently doomed them all - when she'd admitted her betrayal of Regina's secret to Cora; bewildered at how she could have done such a thing mixed with the pain of losing Daniel. She was going through it all over again. The question now was, should she tell Regina again? If she did, it certainly wouldn't be now. She shunted the feeling of guilt and anger aside, pulling herself together from the inside out."It's what the Blue Fairy wanted to talk to us about. Your memories are bound up with the dark magic inside you. Until we can figure out how to untangle the two, we can't risk pulling a thread from either loose or else..."

"Bad things happen," finished Regina. "I'm not sure I want either back." A moment of silence hung between them as she considered what other horrors she was blissfully unaware of. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to hurt you."

Emma raised an eyebrow, still not used to Regina having an apology so readily. "Well, I don't know about you ladies, but I could use a drink before having a sit down with 'Stiltskin." She paused, eyeing Regina. "Unless you're an angry drunk," she quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

Regina shook her head, offering the blond a tired grimace that was supposed to be a smile. "No. Not that I _remember_, anyway," she said, offering her own quip.

"Good," Emma replied, rubbing her temple with her thumb. "One flashback fueled Backdraft moment in a day is enough for me..."

"Agreed," replied Regina.

Snow nodded. "Our apartment isn't far from here. I think it's best if we go straight there; regroup before our next move."

"I can get the boys to cover for the day," said Emma, pulling out her cell. "Happy is better at the phones than me, anyway."

As Emma made a series of calls, the trio walked the few blocks to the apartment, with little conversation. The weight of the day robbing them of whatever spring had been in their steps; Snow taking the opportunity to send out a council-wide text message alerting member to the meeting that evening, and Regina, simply lost in her own thoughts, feeling as if she'd aged a decade in a day. _'What __**did **__you do, Regina?_' she thought to herself. But unlike Snow's query, hers was loaded with a lifetime of forgotten choices and actions taken. It settled like a weight and she became acutely aware of a tiredness that settled into her very bones. She looked up at the sun. If things worked the same in this world as they did in her own realm, she was amazed to find that the day was barely half over. Something Emma had said echoed in her head. _'Did you make them fear me, Mother?'' _She'd never hoped to be the victim of her mother's cruel hand, but now she clung to it like a drowning man to a lifeline. Because if it wasn't the case... "Tell me about Henry," she said suddenly. She wasn't ready to complete that thought. Not yet.

**A/N: **If you'll indulge a little cross plugging from your author, I've begun creating OUAT themed wallpapers - specifically, ones inspired by one of the most beautiful medieval manuscripts in history, taking the art style and putting a modern twist on it, which I'm calling the Storybrooke of Kells. So far, it's just a Regina wallpaper and an August Booth one too. I'm taking requests, so feel free if you like them, be it SwanQueen or Snowing or Graham themed. You can check them out at my deviant art page, which is linked in my profile or at .com.


	9. The Family You Choose

**Author's Notes:** I know there's been a lot of dialogue and not much plot moving forward, but I swear, they just won't shut up! ;) There will be more Cora, and a visit to Rumpy in the next chapter, but for now, I hope you enjoy some Snow/Charm angst and Young!Snow/Regina bonding. Italicized sections are flashbacks.

**Chapter 9: The Family You Choose**

"Anybody home?" Snow called out, smiling, in a voice that reflected all the domesticity Regina had expected the small girl's life to be made up of when they'd first met. Balls and finery and all the usual accoutrements of the regal set, for certain, but there had been an innocent gentleness about the little thing that made it seem like she'd always need protecting. That illusion had been firmly washed away as she'd watched Snow White, the respected leader of man and magical creature alike, today.

"Just finishing up here," a man's voice called from above.

As she swung the door fully open, she stepped aside to let Emma and Regina in, locking the rather oversized deadbolt. As she slid the lock into place, the irony didn't escape her that she'd had August install the thing, not even a month ago, to keep out the very woman she was now protecting.

"Rather... more _rustic_ than I would have thought the fairest princess in all the land to call home," Regina remarked as she took in the space.

Snow shrugged. "Eh, I was always embarrassed by that nickname anyway."

Regina nodded as she looked around the rather pedestrian space. Although it was spotless, the paint was aged and chipped from the walls, revealing red brick and sometimes writing underneath. Birds seemed to be a running theme, and while this space clearly used to be an old storehouse for some merchant's wares, the wooden beams and loft brought Regina right back to the stables. She felt a tightness in her chest and swallowed hard, forcing the emotions back down. The last thing she wanted to do was set the place on fire or something. The phantom scent of hay in her nostrils was quickly replaced with the actual aroma of the home - holiday spices. Cinnamon and vanilla, mostly - giving it a warm homey feel that made it easier for her push her darker associations with stables from her mind.

Emma made a beeline for a high cabinet. "Well... we've got wine or brandy, at the moment. Guest's choice."

"Brandy? Like our realms brandywine?" Regina asked Snow. Snow nodded. "Brandywine then, please."

"Emma pulled out three faux-crystal snifter glasses. Living on the budget of a teacher, with the tastes of a princess, had left Mary's home an odd mishmash of items that fulfilled both sides of her personality.

Emma deftly slid two of the glasses to where Snow and Regina were sitting at the end of the table, which came to a rest in front of their intended targets. Emma smirked at Snow's surprise. She might like to travel and live light, but that didn't mean the blond vagabond didn't collect things. Or in her case, skills. Jumping from town to town, taking up whatever jobs she could, had left Emma something of a blue-collar renaissance woman. She'd found, to her surprise, all that that aimless gathering of skills served her quite well in the bail bonds game - which was likely why it had ended up being the closest she ever thought she'd come to having a career.

Regina palmed the bowl of the snifter that had arrived in front if her. Drinking was a rare indulgence, her mother having been so obsessed with control, she limited its presence in the royal estate to official functions and galas. And while Cora would have considered this the worst time for Regina to 'impair' herself, it seemed to her that the more tightly wound she became, the more insistent the darkness housed inside her became. Never before had the phrase 'taking the edge off' seem so apropos.

Snow smiled "In any case, I'm not a princess around here," she remarked, simply to fill the pause in conversation . "At this point I'm not sure I could go back to living in a huge castle - they're so drafty, you know?"

The man's chuckle echoed across the rafters. "Well, I hope you weren't intending to live at my mother's, should we go back. You need a summer palace to store the gowns alone," he called out. "Why do you think I commissioned a third wing when I found out we were having a girl?"

"Yeah - I hate to break it to you, but gowns _really_ aren't my thing, so you can halt the work order," said Emma. "Two simple little cocktail dresses - one red, one black, is all I need - and those only got pulled out for work, not dinner and dancing dates. Well, not real ones anyway."

"Would it be stepping over a line if I said I'm happy about that?" the man replied. "A father's prerogative and all."

Emma leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter. "Uh-huh. You do realize I already have a kid, right? A little late for the over-protective schtick."

"Well then, if you're not my princess, it wouldn't be unchivalrous to ask for a hand up here," David replied. The sound of slow clapping quickly followed. "Very funny, Henry," remarked David, the roll of his eyes practically audible.

"Just trying to be helpful, Pop," Henry said cheekily. Regina couldn't help her attention being locked on to the boy's voice, surprised at the instinctual draw of it. She may not have given birth to the boy, or remember raising him for a single day, but she couldn't help taking pride in the spirit that practically radiated out of him. In some way, it made her wonder what she could have been like as a child if her mother's soul hadn't been so twisted.

Emma gave the other two women a resigned shrug, swept up her glass, and started upstairs. "Just what _are _you guys doing up there?" she called.

"Just following sheriff's orders," David replied. "She seems to have me wrapped around her little finger..."

Emma's retort was muffled and lost as she stepped into the second level of the loft, but Snow couldn't help straining to listen in. It was just the typical comfortable banter that Emma and David had fallen into, of which Snow had been surprised to find herself a bit jealous. While as Mary Margaret, she and Emma had developed a close friendship, making the transition to mother-daughter hadn't been nearly so natural. As Jiminy had reminded them, Snow had about as much experience having a mother as Emma had being one, making putting the shoe on the other foot tricky at best. She thought back to when she'd turned to Emma for advice and the irony wasn't lost on her that she wished she could again. Sure, there was Red, her dearest friend, but not someone who could readily understand the inherent awkwardness of the whole thing. Having grown up in a close-knit group of women, Red never had to actively learn the language of family, the unspoken dance of boundaries, when to cross them, and when to give someone space, but it may as well have been Orcish for she and Emma. Snow barely remembered her mother, and her father adored her, but relied on nannies - and later, fatefully, Regina - to do the actual parenting. Ironically, Regina had taken up the mantle of raising another child in a family where she'd spent more time as a parent than any women of the White line had. Finally being given a chance, both women found they didn't know the steps to the dance between parent and child.

Meanwhile, David's natural levity - his charm - had blended effortlessly with Emma's own wry humor, creating an easy bridge between the two. Charming had pointed out to her more than once that she and Emma shared a similar rapport, but didn't seem to realize that it wasn't the same thing. It had turned into the couple's first post-curse argument - just four nights after waking up. The first evening alone having been filled by... 'making up for lost time', as Emma had remarked when they retired to bed early. She had dragged Henry upstairs and given them their space - which was at least one perk to be found in having a grown child. Upon the fourth night, they'd lain cuddled together in bed, their first chance to talk alone after dealing with a Storybrooke tearing itself to pieces in the aftermath of magic's return. It resembled a disaster scene with all the trimmings; massive property damage, scores of people looking for their missing loved ones, and even the town hall converted into the headquarters for relief efforts for those left homeless, injured, or both.

She supposed the fight's roots were in the fact that there was finally something they both coveted that wasn't the other's love. This time it was their daughter. They knew children played favorites with one parent or another, general to get something they wanted, but with a child it's harmless and what they're angling for is blatantly clear - a toy, a later curfew, whatever. Normal parents were afforded the time to tease each other about being the child's favorite in a manner as innocent as the child itself. But with Emma it was different. A slight against one parent could very well be personal, and Snow and David found themselves taking things personally. They couldn't confront Emma with this, of course. It would unfairly put the burden of equal time on her shoulders, and it was the parent's issues to work out anyway. So, instead they targeted their frustrations with Emma's natural walls and emotional distance on each other. Never before, for them, had an evening started out so nice and grown into something so ugly.

* * *

_They lay in the dark, just enough moonlight bathing them to see the other other, Snow resting her head on David's bare chest while he stroked the soft skin behind her ear with his thumb and staring up at the black ceiling. It was a habit he'd picked up in this world, a comforting ritual of intimacy they'd shared in their not-so-secret-from-Emma evening rendezvous. A remnant, they'd realized after awakening, of his habit of running his hand through her long black curls. To his horror and Snow's delight, David's hands were soft, missing his hard-earned callousness that would have been rough against such delicate skin. While he had to admit it made the sensation of her skin more vibrant, he was more concerned with what it meant for handling his sword. He wasn't looking forward to the blisters he was sure to suffer in the near future._

_"I don't know how you can call me lucky when you're the one she already considered family **before** the curse broke," said David. _

_"We were still just friends. Gods, she didn't even tell me when she tried to take off with Henry."_

_"You know what they say - friends are the family you choose. And she chose you. She barely tolerated me."_

_"Right. Because she'll just let anyone take Henry home. She trusted you with her **son**, David."_

_"To keep me from participating in your welcome home party," he remarked._

_Snow shifted to prop herself up on her left shoulder and face her husband. "To **protect** me. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing to any guy who hurt her half as much as you did me," she challenged._

_David's silence told her he knew he couldn't argue that point. He remained staring up at the ceiling, arms folded across his stomach, unknowingly mirroring Emma's pose on this very same bed when she'd told Mary about Henry's theory about her parents. "That wasn't me," he replied defensively._

_"And she knows that," Snow shot back. "Not that she hated you anyway."_

_"So you're saying that being able to tease her with threats of grounding her, or being able to voice parental concerns for her health and safety, without her shutting down is worth **more** than getting the opportunity to guide her and help mend her heartaches? You've already gotten to undo some of the damage we're responsible for putting her through."_

_"First of all, we gave her her best chance. **Regina** is to blame for what our little girl had to endure - not us. Secondly, she guided and supported me as much as I did her. Probably more so, really. She encouraged me to give you a chance when you'd left Kathryn. She spent all night beside me when you broke my heart and went so far as to sneak an apple in my bag lunch the next morning, with a note... this silly little riddle. 'What do teachers and Snow White have in common? Short people and apples. If Henry is right, you'll need this so your Prince Charming can find you.' Just to make sure I knew that I wasn't alone; that I smiled that day. How can she ever look at me as a mother when she's spent** so much** time protecting my heart - and even rescuing me from the clutches of Jefferson and Regina? That's what a parent should do - and never the other way around."_

_"Right. You got to be there, supporting her unconditionally from day one, whereas I proved time and time again that I couldn't be true and steadfast for her or you. How would you like to live with remembering helping to campaign against your daughter's election? To turn your back time and time again when you needed me most because, for some reason, I could take Regina's words at face value but not those of the woman I claimed to love. The woman who had believed in my innocence in Kathryn's disappearance just two days prior, simply on trust and faith. Whether she understands that that wasn't really me or not doesn't matter, because she knows that somewhere deep inside me, there's the potential that I won't have her back. She'll never have that kind of unwavering trust in me that she should - that her father will always be there to catch her. The trust **you** already do." His voice rose in hard intensity, even as he remained as hushed as possible to avoid waking Henry and Emma. "You call it a bridge that allows me to connect to her in a parental way, but it's also a barrier. We'll never be able to cross that gap any more than the old mill bridge outside town can handle a semi-truck. Our baggage doomed us even before the curse broke. I'll never be fully trusted. Emma is an expert at keeping people at an arm's length, and humor is her weapon of choice. Whether she wants to or not, she will. I'd trade her acknowledging my status as her father if it meant she trusted me like she does you."_

_Snow sat up straight. "Bullshit!" she replied in a whispered yell. _

_"Excuse me?" he asked incredulously. _

_"I said, bullshit. You know as well as I that Emma literally saw -** in a vision** - what we went through. You nearly laid down your life without a second thought, just to give her a fighting chance at a good life. So don't you go pretending you'll never get to acknowledge your relationship outside of bantering. There comes a day that **every** girl needs her father - and the most important one of all is probably the only first we have left with her. My father never got to give me away at my wedding. I never got the father-daughter dance. No, **I** got my stepmother announcing the end of the world. But you had your mother at our wedding and you'll get to to act in a real, official capacity, reserved for fathers alone, should that day come." She'd nearly ranted herself into tears, accidentally giving voice to concerns she'd never even been brave enough to mull over by herself. She drew her legs up, thighs pressed tightly up against her abdomen, and rested her chin on her knees._

_Seeing her this upset, David confused himself as he simultaneously wanted to soothe her fears, but was extremely annoyed that Snow continued to refuse to acknowledge that he was in an equally hard situation with Emma. "And you know what? You're more than likely right. But don't you see?" He let out a sigh that sounded more like a grumble than he had intended. "That's exactly my point! You know this stuff because you had the time to learn it by being with her - or she outright told you. She doesn't open up like that for me. She just changes the subject or makes a sarcastic joke of it all."_

_"That's because you let her get away with it," said Snow flatly as she kept her eyes glued to the gauzy white drapes dancing on the gentle breeze wafting in from outside. _

_"As opposed to what? Pushing her into things before she's ready? She reacts like any wild animal does when backed into a corner - fight or flight."_

_"No," Snow replied, her head shake hampered by her chin resting on her knees. "I used to think that too, but no... you know I just realized... she's no wild animal. She's the Little Lost Puppy. It's a children's book I read with my younger summer school students. Except Emma... she's the puppy that grew up on the streets, befriending people she meets but no one ever wants to take her home with them. She grows up alone and will show her teeth when cornered, like you said. Except she knows she'll never bite, so she runs. **She** doesn't even realize that she wants to go home to a family until someone thinks to draw her out, enticing her to come out. Now **that's** what **you** need to do with Emma."_

_"And you don't?" asked David. _

_Snow turned head to the side, resting her head by the temple now. "You **were** listening weren't you? I told you, it's infinitely more complicated. If you're building a bridge, then I'm reversing the flow of a river. Emma has already come to Mary Margaret. Now I need her to realize - no, not just realize, but truly believe, that she she has a mom... if she needs one, anyway."_

_Snow's body language had eased up enough that David felt his touch would be welcome. He decided to play it safe and simply scooched up next to her until their shoulders met, like two teens first time figuring how to initiate intimate contact. "Of course she'll need you. She's already proven as much many times over before coming to Storybrooke."_

_Snow shook her head. "Gods, this is strange. You know, I actually gave her a mom speech just before the curse broke. She reacted so contritely ... it was all so strangely natural. I don't think she would have taken that scolding from anyone but me. Certainly not without a snarkier response." She tilted her head to the left, resting her temple on his shoulder. "We've lost **so much**, David. **Gods**!" The last word came out half-choked on and ragged as she felt a dam that had held strong since waking up break. The waters rose quickly and she found herself functionally blind behind the river of tears. "We need to be a team in this... we can't lose each other now - not now that we're finally with Emma... we can't lose us... the **us **us, bickering over Emma." _

_David wrapped an arm around her reassuringly. "Shhh. We won't. I swear it, or my name isn't Prince James."_

_Snow squawked out a laugh. "But it's not." She was caught somewhere between sobs and laughter, puzzled by where he was going with such an odd declaration. _

_"We'll get our happy ending, come hell or high water, and **no one** can stop us. Not 'Stiltskin, not the Evil Queen - not even ourselves, if it comes down to it." He felt Snow lean into him as she dissolved into a messy mix of despair, love, and guarded hope that had made up the last few days. Really, what to do with Emma was a question that could wait - except that their daughter had already waited 28 years for an absolution she couldn't be sure would ever come. _

_But as parents they couldn't help it. Every time they watched loved ones reunite, one of the missing found, their family made whole again with no messy time paradoxes and other nonsense, it made them resent - just a little - the burden of leadership they'd never asked for and what it had cost them. Snow pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Dwelling served no purpose, but a good old-fashioned cry did, focused on wallowing over nothing in particular but releasing everything she'd been holding back. Some for 4 days, some for 28 years. As her breathing slowed she gradually realized Charming had started humming. It wasn't long until he must have noticed she was calming because his humming suddenly turned to quiet singing._

_"Hush little Snow-bird, don't you cry, this shepherd'll keep you in his eye,_

_And if this shepherd's crook should snap, then he'll just have to be George's sap,_

_But should this sap find love his aim, he'll play the prince in more than name,_

_And should his Snow-bird bear their child, his joy could never be more wild,_

_There is no curse so strong its bind, that his lady birds he will not find._

_No witch can cast a curse so black, to stop him getting his family back."_

_David didn't have to see his wife's face to know the quizzical expression that was upon it. The way she lazily shook her head, he could practically see the sardonic smirk shine through her tears. Had this been another moment she may have teased him for playing the fool; or in Storybrooke, being a geek. But for right now, she was simply warmed by his devotion to lifting her spirits. He hugged his one arm around her a little tighter, using the other to take her hand, and her breathing gradually subsided from ragged sputtering to controlled and steady. "We have to believe this will work out, Snow." They remained like that, in comfortable silence, for a time. It was comfortable to sit just sit there, the twilight darkness acting as a blank canvas, letting them pretend, for just a moment, they were wherever they wished. Eventually, Snow sniffled as the tears subsided and David wrapped both his arms around her now, resting his chin on top of her head. "Wanna go kick some Regina ass?" he asked._

_Snow nodded as a smile managed to break through like a ray of sunshine peeking between storm clouds. She sighed. "But we can't."_

_"I know," he answered quietly. "But I bet we could get Gepetto to build a **fantastic** pinata bearing a **striking** resemblance to a certain mayor."_

_This managed to get a genuine laugh, bubbling up from deep inside his wife. "I'd rather not traumatize Henry," she replied wryly. "He still believes in redemption; in the Disneyfied version of life where villains reform or bring death upon themselves because they're too greedy."_

_"Self-defeating enemies? That would be handy."_

_"You're telling me... but I can't imagine what it would take to reform Regina," replied Snow._

_They lay back down, holding each other like spoons in a drawer. "We can't be worrying, envying each other, like Emma is a gold piece," Snow said finally. "She's bound to notice, I'd she hasn't already. She's not a child, but..."_

_"We can't put that on her shoulders," David finished for her._

* * *

"Beware the green-eyed troll," remarked Regina thoughtfully, snapping Snow away from her remembrances.

"Huh?" replied Snow, having been snapped from her reverie. She looked up from the glass of brandy she'd been swirling absently as she stared into the amber liquid.

"Jealousy. I know that look," she replied simply before taking a slow sip from her own snifter. She peered over the rim of the glass, silently hoping she looked more mischievous than aggressive in her prodding.

Snow gave her shrug, topped with a half-hearted, close-lipped smile "Don't be silly. Jealous of what?"

Regina nodded sarcastically, though her tone was serious. "Uh-huh. Just don't let it eat you from the inside out like it did my mother." She raised a sardonic eyebrow when Snow didn't fess up. "I'm not surprised you grew up to be a terrible liar," she deadpanned. _'But I __**am**__ surprised you haven't taken to motherhood like a duck to water,' _she added mentally. Granted, she'd only had a few days with the girl while she and her father guested at their estate, but Cora had insisted she spend as much time with Snow as possible, in a move to cement her favor with the king.

* * *

_"Now, on three, you lift and swing your right leg over his back, but be careful not to dig your heel into his side, lest you give him the message you want to move. Ready?"_

_The girl nodded, her eagerness making her doe-eyes appear even larger than usual, and held out her hand. Regina took the girl's small hand in her own "Alright. One, two, three," she announced. Her small grunt of exertion was drowned out by the young girl's giggling squeal of delight as she hoisted herself up and over the gelding's to settle on its bare back. The animal shifted his front legs a little restlessly as she adjusted her weight on the unfamiliar perch. "There you go" Regina remarked. "Keep your balance centered, just like we discussed."_

_"I did it!" Snow exclaimed, and Regina couldn't help smiling, as the little princess's accomplished grin was contagious. Suddenly the horse began to move forward as Snow, in her excitement, accidentally squeezed the horse's sides with her thighs. "Aah!" she shrieked in surprise. _

_The movement was more unexpected rather than quick, and Regina gently tugged down on the reins, with an accompanying "Whoa," bringing him to a halt after just a few paces. _

_Snow's fingers were locked in a death grip in the steed's mane and she was breathing heavily, but let out a relieved laugh as she realized the danger had passed._

_"Be careful, I can't teach you how to stop a runaway horse if you make him dash off before the lesson is through," Regina scolded wryly. "Like I said. Don't squeeze him with your legs unless you're ready to move. It's all instinct for them when you don't have a saddle or bridle."_

_"Sorry," replied Snow, the embarrassment evident in her voice. She was just entering the age during which even a princess becomes overly self-conscious and desperate to be perfect in the eyes of friends and admired adults. The latter was a category Regina was becoming increasingly aware she had been assigned to in Snow's eyes. "I guess I'm still a little jumpy after the other day..."_

_"The important thing is that you didn't panic," Regina replied. It wasn't exactly true, but giving out compliments that didn't sound patronizingly false wasn't something she was terribly comfortable with. She'd only been complemented by servants and her father - both hollow as they came from people obligated, by service or by the doting eyes of a father blind to his daughter's faults. At least that had been the case before Daniel had made it clear his affections were true, rather than duty bought. In any case, it was the one nicety never afforded her, and as such, she didn't know how to express it to anyone but Daniel._

_"You needn't soften your blows like I'm a porcelain doll," replied Snow, smiling. "I get enough of that back home. It's as you said, I must get back on the horse - I get enough empty flattery at home. I'm sure you know what I mean - I was hoping you wouldn't be the same. If you're not to be my mother, I was hoping..." She trailed off and looked down, a blush racing across her cheeks._

_"For a friend?" asked Regina._

_Snow looked up. "There aren't many noble children my age, and certainly not in the court, and the servant's children are too afraid to be honest, even when I promise I would never get them in trouble..." A childish frown scrunched her features._

_Regina laid her hand on Snow's. "I know** exactly** what you mean. It can get quite lonely. My best friends live in these stables." _

_"I've wished for a sister as long as I can remember. But a friend would be wonderful as well," she replied, searching Regina's face, a heartbreakingly hopeful look in her eyes._

_She had to admit, even with the age gap, it was nice to have someone to commiserate with that needn't fear her social rank. "So have I," she replied. "Perhaps, should the fates will it, we may be sisters of a sort some day." She gave the girl a reassuring smile and gently squeezed her hand. Snow returned both gestures. "But that's for another day. Now, let's get practicing on a moving horse. Once you get him going, when you wish to stop you simply lean forward, just slightly, hollowing out the small of your back. Resting your weight on his front shoulders will naturally make him want to stop. Go ahead and try it."_

_Snow did as instructed, getting the hang of stopping and starting quite quickly. "Excellent! " Regina remarked after a half dozen successful attempts at the maneuver. She only realized she'd managed a ready, natural compliment after it had already passed her lips. "You seem to have a natural affinity with animals," she continued, thinking back to the sparrows that literally flocked to the girl during their morning garden walks. "It's hard to believe that horse of yours went so completely wild underneath you."_

_Snow puffed up a little at this. "Thank you. Truth be told, it was the first time anything like that has happened to me. I usually ride my pony Margie, but she threw a shoe just after we left the village not far from here. My father had to procure a new horse while we stabled Margie until the village blacksmith recovered from some illness. It was the only mount available. I guess he wasn't very fond of me."_

_"Nonsense. Some horses simply require a firmer hand than others. I doubt it was personal," replied Regina._

_Snow smiled warmly. "You will make a wonderful mother one day," she remarked, a little tinge of regret in her voice._

_"You think so?" Regina asked. She'd never given the idea much thought, given her relationship with her own mother, aside from the vow that she wouldn't ever repeat her mother's mistakes._

_"I know so," Snow replied, nodding with the kind of assurance of her own rightness only a child can possess. _

_"And how do you figure that?" Regina asked._

_Snow looked down, locking eyes with Regina. "**Because**," she began, her tone making it clear that what she was about trouble say should have been obvious. "I've spent my whole life dreaming up what makes a perfect mother. She must be kind, and generous - especially with her love and even more especially with her patience - 'cause everyone makes mistakes, even kids. She must be able to be silly, but serious sometimes too, or else how can she figure out what's best for her child if she's playing all the time? And she must know wonderful stories, you know, the kind that are sad but always end with making your heart smile with hope?" She sucked in a deep lungful of air suddenly, answering Regina's own wonderment of how long such a small girl could talk without breathing. "And she has to be brave," she concluded._

_"Why brave?" Regina asked, almost chuckling._

_"Because," Snow replied, suddenly somber. "She has to be brave, 'cause she can never be sure if she'll have to leave her daughter behind. She can't guarantee that she'll always be there - that it won't happen. No one can. And that's the scariest thing in all the lands... breaking the heart of someone you love with all of yours." It was strange seeing someone so young wearing such a maudlin expression. It only graced her features for a few moments, and it was obvious Snow had had this thought many times over, as she seemed to be able to pick it up, examine it, and then put it back in its rightful place, out of the way, on her mental shelves. The expression mostly passed, she shrugged. "Anyway, I know you're kind, and brave, because you saved me. And I know you have a heart filled with love, if you'd give up everything to be with your true love. Whoever gets to have you as a mother will be very lucky."_

_Regina offered a warm smile, hoping the sadness in her heart didn't show in her eyes. The girl was too young to understand the kinds of worries that plagued her - that any child of her's would be in danger from secret deal bartered by Cora, or it would live in fear running from its own grandmother's vindictive revenge. Or worst of all, that she would fail at parenting, just like Cora, because she didn't know any other kind of mothering. "Thank you, Snow. For what its worth, even if you never get the mother you deserve, I believe you'll make a most wonderful one when you grow up - the kind that every child dreams of having."_

_Snow's eyes lit up with joyous tears at the compliment. "You're not just saying that, right? Do you mean it, truly?"_

_"Hey, I trusted you with my most important secret, and that's because I can see that you don't just have a big heart. You're brave enough to be entrusted with it - you proved that simply by coming to the stables, all on your own, to get back on that horse." She offered the girl a kind smile. "And your promise to keep my secret will make it possible for Daniel and I to change our lives. A just world will reward such an honorable act."_

_"Oh, thank you miss Regina! I hope you're right!" She snatched the woman's hand up, pressing it to her chest in lieu of the hug she couldn't give from her perch. _

_"Hey - I'm never wrong. You remember that the next time you're feeling melancholy. Things will always get better - never forget that." It was a platitude she herself didn't always believe, but finding Daniel had proven it as far as she was concerned. "Never give up fighting for it." She looked around and noticed that the shadows were getting long. "Now, let's work on your hands free turns. Knowing how to steer a bridleless horse just might come in handy one day."_

* * *

The little girl she had met seemed to Regina like the type born to nurture, just as her father - and presumably mother - had been before her.

Snow looked down into her glass for a long moment then up again. "You have to-" she began, but immediately bit her tongue. She'd been about to ask Regina to not tell anyone, but demanding the woman keep a secret would have been more cruelly ironic than if she were to scold Emma for giving her baby away to strangers. Instead, she fumbled a few syllables as she pulled the thought hard to port, the course correction finishing the sentence as "- have one of the most uncanny abilities to read people of anyone I've ever met." It wasn't untrue, though it was a shame she'd used it to manipulate people in her maneuvers for power, rather than to play the game of politics between kingdoms. She could have ensured a golden age of peace, a better land for her subjects and others, with her talents. "Which is doubly amazing for someone so young - well, in memory, and thus, experience, I should say."

"You kind of have to, to survive having a mother like mine." She shrugged. "You know, a survival skill." Regina eyed the brunette. It was clear she was only a handful of years older than Regina was - in her mind, at least; it was easy to forget she now inhabited a body _at least_ a decade older than the one she'd started her day with. And Snow's eyes held a world-weariness brought about by living through things your typical princess never dreamed existed, let alone survived. But that was neither here nor there. "And you're dodging the subject. I've seen the same look in my mother's eyes when more times than I can count when she came upon my father and I enjoying each other's company." Snow's nose scrunched up at the comparison, as if she'd just come across a particularly unpleasant odor. Clearly Cora had shown her true colors at some point. "You lack the anger in your eyes of course," she added. The recoiling tension in Snow's visage relaxed. "But jealousy, nonetheless. What I don't understand is the cause. You and Emma seem to get on quite well. I'd have given anything as a girl to have such a relationship with my mother - sisterly, almost." Snow's sad smile returned, telling Regina that she'd hit a nerve, and she wondered if Snow remembered their own discussion - one only a day prior for her.

Snow glanced at the stairs leading up to Emma's loft. "_That_ would be the problem. How do you grow from friends as close as sisters, to mother and daughter?" She paused, considering how much was wise to share. "How we ended up here - this realm - wasn't by choice. It's also why I find myself with a daughter the same age as myself. I never got to be a mother - not for more than a few minutes. We were cursed - the whole realm - sent to live here, our happiness taken away, with no hope of an end to it because we were unhitched from time's passage. An eternity stuck living the same mindless lives, never aging, accomplishing nothing. "

"Eternal youth doesn't sound so bad," replied Regina. "Plenty of people have wished for it."

Snow shook her head. "Life ceases to have meaning when there's no end to it. No cycles. No growing. There are children here that have been coming to my classroom, repeating the same lessons, for 28 years. We have only begun to move forward with Emma's return."

Regina took a deep sip of brandy savouring the sweet burn as it made its way down her throat and warmed her stomach. It felt like penance, which she felt she deserved. She was disturbed to find that while she should have been horrified by the idea - she was apparently a victim as much as anyone in town - a kind of venomous delight at the consequences of the curse rattled against the barriers of the darkness in her chest. The only comforting aspect of the sensation was that she was far more concerned about the victim's suffering than the hateful thing trying to seep free; it was quickly extinguished as she concentrated on the compassionate feelings. "So how is it Emma was spared? And how could I have adopted Henry if nothing changes?"

Snow sighed, the kind that comes from deep within, a hidden place, riding forth riding on a wave of emotional storm clouds. "A wardrobe was fashioned from the last enchanted tree in all the realm. Rumplestiltskin prophesied her return as the one chosen to save us all, should she escape the curse. It took every bit of my strength, reserves I didn't know I had, even after childbirth, to believe. To let her go alone, mere minutes old."

Sympathy mingled with darker thoughts in Regina's heart at Snow's story. She shook her head. "I'm an awful person," Regina declared quietly. Snow's eyes snapped to Regina, who once again had the unnerving sensation of this woman being able to see things in Regina didn't even know about herself.

_'I've said too much. Now you've gone and done it, Snow. She gets her recklessness from you and you know it.' _ Her own voice echoed in her head. She searched Regina's face for any sign of the bitter, wounded woman who should be in there. Then again, nothing like the explosive jailbreak the fairy had warned of, should the darkness be set free, seemed to be happening. Nothing but a nervous, and slightly sad woman, looked back at her.

"I - nothing's changed, if that's what you're eyeing me for," said Regina, grateful when this seemed to sate Snow enough to relax her examination of her. "I just mean... here I am accusing you of jealousy, and I'm sitting here jealous that Emma has a mother that would care for her so selflessly and believe in her so readily and truly, that she would give her up. Give up her dreams to give her daughter her best chance."

The space between Snow's brows crinkled in empathy ever so slightly at this admonishment. "Yes, well, I don't feel like such a wonderful mother, envying my husband over the first time he's ever had with Emma." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "I suppose it's my turn, after the pregnancy." She leaned in conspiratorially. "He never admitted it, but I know he was jealous of my having a bond with our child before she was even born. That I knew she was a girl even after Doc declared a boy from how I was carrying." She leaned back again, smiling. "I suppose that's to be expected when your doctor got his title from a pickaxe. You should have seen his face the first time he felt Emma kick..." She sighed. "And then we wake up here, I'm already best friends with my daughter, and she's taken it upon herself to protect me from him."

Regina cocked her head to one side. "I was under the impression you were married. I know King Leopold is an understanding man, but a child out of wedlock...? I didn't think that was the kind of loss of face even he'd endorse."

Snow frowned. "Father... he... I lost him a long time ago." The emotion in her voice turned her normally clear voice muddled and rough. "When I wasn't much younger then you." Her chin puckered. "He never saw me wed, or start a family..."

"Oh, dear," replied Regina in shock. The man wasn't young, but he seemed vibrant and strong, with at least another 20 years left on the throne ahead of him. "I'm so sorry, Snow. I know how much he meant to you." Truly, the girl doted on her father, and she understood the sentiment. The thought occurred to her that there had been no mention of her father. But, given the fact that her mother must have gone on some kind of rampage, and she'd name her son Henry... she pushed the thought back. She didn't want to know right now.

Snow had frozen as soon as the words 'I'm sorry' left Regina's lips. For all the apologies she'd offered the woman for all the sadnesses in her life, she'd never heard one from her step-mother. But then, she'd never expected one. Her rant to Mary Margaret, when she was imprisoned, had made it clear that while she was appalled by Snow believing herself an innocent, Regina most certainly had made herself out to be the first innocent to be hurt in all this. She threw the rest of her drink down her throat, hoping it would explain any tears she found herself fervently blinking back. She hadn't expected the apology, even if was an unknowing one, for what had happened to her father to hit her so hard. It meant more than she could ever logically explain. She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she replied, pleased to find her voice steady. She got to her feet to retrieve the bottle of brandy, pouring herself another serving. "Top you off?"

Regina nodded, pushing her glass across the table. "Please."

When they were both refilled, Snow leaned back, elbows on the counter behind her. It was a simple gesture, but her comfort with the kind of posture Cora would have considered crass, reminded Regina once again that this Snow probably had stories to last days. She found herself jealous that the girl had been able to find the freedom she'd only dreamed about. The scene with the boys on the roof earlier that day was probably the most adventure she'd ever had, and as she'd always suspected, she liked it. The idea of more energized her. "You needn't answer, but did your father approve of your... proclivities?"

Snow frowned. "_Proclivities?_ I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Did your father allow you do as you pleased? Did you ever ride bareback again?"

Snow smirked, thinking back. "Oh, yes, that particular skill did end up coming in handy more than once. Especially when ambushing royals to rob them."

"Snow White, the highwayman?!" balked Regina, laughing. "You must be playing me for a fool!"

"Nope. Robbed from the rich and gave to the poor - pocketing some for myself, I'm afraid to say. Girl's gotta eat."

"And your father was pleased by this behavior?" Snow's smile faded at this and what Snow was implying dawned on her. "This was after he passed?" Snow simply nodded. "I'm sorry - I wasn't thinking."

Snow held up a hand. "No, it's alright. To answer your question, though, he indulged me for the most part. I was very much the naive little princess you probably expected me to turn out as - even after I lost him. But... well, I won't go into it, but I was exiled not long after."

"That's awful," said Regina.

"I like to think of it as a blessing in disguise. I found I actually liked the independence it brought, even if the circumstances were... less than ideal. I learned a lot about myself. In a lot of ways, I think of it as the first time I ever truly felt alive. Not to mention, I never would have met my husband, or had my daughter if it hadn't happened. Still... there were a lot of sadnesses along the way..." A wistful pain laced her voice.

"But you would do it all again, I would hazard to guess. To have a baby, for just one moment, before giving her up to the world, believing in her _so_ much that you trusted that child would someday find you again."

"In a heartbeat," Snow replied, surprising even herself with the ferocity of the sentiment.

The bitterly sarcastic smirk that so often appeared on Regina's face was back. "Like I said... how terrible a person must I be that I envy Emma her situation. I doubt if my mother would take a cold bath if it meant I got a warm one, let alone sacrifice her happiness for mine. You'll mend the broken ties, eventually, with the love in your heart - because you have faith in your daughter. I never had that from my mother... she never gave enough of herself to give us that chance." She shook her head. "It was Daniel that taught me that love isn't true, unless it goes both ways... Do you remember what we talked about the day I taught you to ride bareback?"

Snow thought back. "Be careful what you squeeze between your thighs?" she asked, putting on a mask of innocence so pure, Regina saw nothing but the little girl staring back at her - until her mind caught up with her eyes, as Snow couldn't help the one eyebrow that crept up her forehead. "I suppose Daniel taught you _that _lesson as well."

Regina's eyes widened. "No proclivities, huh? How did such proper princess get such a filthy mind?" Her tone was horrified, even if she couldn't keep smirk from curling her lips.

Snow chuckled and shrugged. "You spend enough time with dwarves and in taverns and you're bound to get a little mud on your boots." She sipped from her glass. "Besides, _you_ spend a lifetime being told how 'cute' you are and see if you don't delight in shocking people now and then. I'll never be able to pull off the smoldering beauty thing you've got going. I have to remind people I'm not some naive young thing somehow."

Regina smiled and nodded. "I suppose you're right. Of course, it's just as hard on this side of the fence. My mother is always saying I must enhance myself, show that I'm making an effort, but I've always thought all that makeup made me look older - and people assume a girl is 'worldly', so to speak, when she looks a certain way. It's exciting to be mistaken as ten years older than you are when you're 15. Not so much when you're 25."

"Now_ that _we can agree on," Snow replied, raising her glass in a saluut gesture. "To answer your question, yes, I remember that day. But you'll have to be a little more exact if I'm to remember what you're referring to specifically. It _has_ been just over forty years from my perspective. "

Regina raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't comment. It was strange to think the woman sitting in front of her was old enough to be her mother, even if she didn't look it. Then her own reflection came to mind and she realized that she looked pretty good for a woman in her late 60's. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. Better not to think too deeply on it. "You remember our discussion about mothers?" Snow nodded. "Well, I don't know what our relationship turned out to be - and after this afternoon, I can wait for the details - but I'd like to offer up my friendship. Should you need to talk or anything. I mean, I got my chance with Henry, and he seems to be an amazing boy. It doesn't seem fair that I should get that - with your grandson no less!" she remarked in disbelief, "and you not get yours. So... should you need an ear." She shrugged, leaving Snow to fill in the blank. "Emma is lucky to have you at all. Even with all you missed, it shouldn't be too late to take back what was stolen from both of you. I would have done anything for that chance with my mother."

"Never give up the fight," replied Snow with a quiet smile, which Regina returned with a dash of pride that Snow still held her advice in her heart. She regarded the formerly, or soon to be, Evil Queen before her. That woman had probably cursed instilling that fight in her - she'd hadn't exactly had the opportunity to ask, but she had to assume the thought had crossed the witch's mind from time to time.

"I'm afraid that one is a lost cause. Still, at least there's Henry. Not that I get to remember any of it," she remarked in a tone that was light, if laced with bitterness. "She did this, didn't she?"

"Did what?" Snow asked, playing dumb in an effort she knew to be futile to avoid the subject.

"Took everyone's happiness away, trapping them here in some bitter attempt to punish people for having the happiness she wouldn't let into her own life, thanks to her madness for control. I knew she'd never stop until she had ultimate power." Snow leaned back, attempting to appear casual, determined not to lead Regina any further to the truth. She'd already hit the nail on the head of the motivation for the curse - just the wrong culprit. It wasn't terribly surprising when she considered that as far off the path as the woman had gotten, it was the same mind with the same logic, that got her there. "I lost my memories, not my wits. I've noticed how people look at me. How _everyone _looks at me. Don't deny it. I've seen it in your eyes too."

Snow frowned. She was right. Regina was going to have to face the people eventually, unless they planned to lock her away in a tower. _'It's a thought...' _a small dark voice in the back of her head piped up. _'She did as much to Belle.' _Snow shook her head almost imperceptibly, clearing the thought. It was replaced by Jiminy's raspy voice. _'If you stoop to her level you're simply condemning yourself to become something just as dark.' _He'd been right. And all that aside, Snow simply refused to think of this woman as the same one that had inflicted so much pain on her family. Snow sighed. "It wasn't your mother, but... something... someone she created. As I said, I haven't seen or heard anything regarding her whereabouts since I was 14. For all I know, she's hidden somewhere in town right now." A little spark of alarm shone in Regina's eyes at this. "But I doubt it. She's not exactly one for subtlety."

"Indeed she isn't," Regina replied. "Well, what was this evil that cursed everyone here?"

"Um," Snow hesitated, quickly bringing the drink to her lips, buying herself time.

"That kind of falls into the stuff you're not ready for category," replied Emma as she made her way downstairs, David and Henry on her heels.

"Most people simply refer to her as the Evil Queen," added James. Regina felt a stirring in her at the label, a strange mix of pride and anger. She quickly buried the feelings, considering what David and Snow had both said. She knew of no other power greater than Rumpelstiltskin, but her mother was most certainly the most powerful mortal in all the realm. She didn't know if it was possible for her to create a dark being even more powerful than herself - unless Cora was also the Evil Queen. Had her mother bound her dark power in Regina in a bid to hide after the curse was broken, and erased her memories to hide the evidence? True or not, it's what she wanted to believe. She couldn't imagine taking in dark magic like her mother's willingly. The thought of her mother exiled stirred a wave of energy in the black knot in her chest. She focused, finding she was slowly getting a handle on the thing that felt like its own living creature housed inside her - like bridle training a young stallion.

"_David!_" exclaimed Snow.

He simply shrugged as he approached and bent down to lay a quick kiss on her lips. "We have to be able to refer to her somehow," he reasoned.

"If you saw what I nearly did to Snow and Emma earlier, you wouldn't be so cavalier," remarked Regina somberly.

Henry had related the whole story, with Emma filling in a few details in the last few minutes, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else completely. Her whole demeanor was transformed, and he couldn't help compare it to the false nicety she'd displayed to him under the curse. Even as he'd been fooled by her, there had always been something off about her approach; always too well rehearsed - never genuine. He remembered the last time he'd seen her, as he flung his sword at her in a fit of rage at he and Snow's wedding. She couldn't let Snow have even the one day that was supposed to be perfect. It would have been rather hypocritical, after going through so much trouble to stop Snow from murdering the queen, if he'd actually thought he'd manage to kill her. But after almost two years fighting her, taking back their kingdom, he knew all her tricks. It was about as likely to kill her as a cow's tail swatting at flies. Now, he found himself in the strange situation of carrying fond memories of the woman who had destroyed his family - the one thing that he and Henry alone shared. Now, as he saw her and realized Emma's account was quite true, he actually thought it a shame that more people hadn't seen the pleasant side of the mayor. There was a truly vulnerable core to the woman. He wasn't looking forward to being in the situation of arguing on her behalf, but his honor would demand no less. He suddenly realized he was on the verge of staring and quickly pushed up the rolled sleeves of his flannel and extended a hand in greeting. "I'm David. Snow's husband."

Regina took his hand, and he surprised her by wrapping his palm around her fingers in the courtly fashion of nobility. She followed the gesture through automatically, it having been drilled into her to the point of instinct, bowing her head as he did his. Henry wore a wide grin as he watched David tuck his hand behind his back and offer Regina a bow from the waist. Emma's face wore an acerbic smirk and raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to seeing seemingly normal people who used everyday slang occasionally break into behavior or speech more suited to a renaissance faire. It was like living in a city of longtime immigrants - except instead of being refugees from some war-torn country they came from, well, the past, for all intents and purposes. David often came across as particularly schizo, in a charming way of course, as he usually spoke, as everyone did, in the manner of this realm, but he lacked any knowledge of pop culture from before he woke up - making him detached even by Storybrooke standards. At the same time, the shepherd boy peeked his head out occasionally. She wasn't sure if it was because of his past or in spite of it, but she'd been happy to see his transition was easier than many Storybrooke citizens. Really, his whole time here had been one big identity crisis - getting back his pre-curse memories simply made him more at ease in his own skin.

When Regina looked back up, David saw her eyes were wide with surprise. "You're familiar with regal protocol."

He nodded. "I was called Prince James for a time..." He looked over to Snow. "Is that vague enough for your liking?" he teased. Snow rolled her eyes. They both knew his back story was about the least likely to trigger anything for Regina.

"King George's son?" Regina shook her head. "Truly a strange world where a princess is a school teacher and a prince looks more like a woodsman," she remarked.

He shrugged. "It's a long story."

"Isn't everyone's?" she replied good-naturedly. She saw a flicker of sadness flit over his eyes and couldn't help the frustration she felt at seeing that at every other thing she said.

"Yes, I suppose so." He cleared his throat. He placed his hands flat on the dining room table, leaning forward, eager to get back into the action he'd become accustomed to since he'd stepped into his twin brother James's shoes. "So, what's next?"

Emma rested her hip against the edge of the table, next to David, and crossed her arms. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm in the mood to go antiquing."


	10. The Spider's Parlor

**Can I interest you folks in a game? **I don't know if it's been obvious or not, but in keeping with the spirit of the show, I've been dropping little clues, like so many breadcrumbs, about characters back stories, and how everything is going to play out. So if something seems like a random aside, it may not be. Or it might be. Anyway, I've been having fun with it, but I've come to realize I might be playing by myself.

**Author's Notes:** A small warning: just a quick, veiled reference to child abuse. It's in the first paragraph, so if that's something that triggers you, skip to the 2nd. Also my many apologies for the ridiculous amount of typos in the last chapter to those that read it in the first 12 hours after I published it. I did a second reread of this one, so hopefully it will be mostly polished.

Also, it should be noted that Henry, and thus Cora's after marriage, last name (Alys, for those that don't recall) is pronounced in such a way that it rhymes with 'malice' or 'palace'. A small, but important detail for later on.

** Once. Evil. Regal**: Glad you liked the apology exchange - I was afraid it might have been a little melodramatic. You never know how hammy the actors in the reader's heads are ;) Regarding the husband confusion - that's probably a good indication that I should be using a beta reader. I can see why it would be confusing. Basically, Regina was assuming that if Emma was protecting Snow from David's advances, they weren't married in this world. So they weren't married in the Enchanted Forest either. Before that info she'd assumed, correctly, that the pair were married. I did a lot of changing up the order of how the dialogue played out, so I'm not surprised it's about as clear as mud.

Anyway, on with the show.

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Spider's Parlor**

"Antiquing?" replied Henry, clearly confused. Regina leaned forward unconsciously, glad to have someone else who wasn't following either, to ask for her. Asking questions in her family garnered ridicule at best - and 'corrections' at worst, should her mother believe Regina was being purposely obtuse. She absently rubbed her fingers across her right hip joint, realizing suddenly that it hadn't bothered her once all day. She'd had what she jokingly referred to as a 'trick hip' that had a tendency to slip from the socket on occasion and ache after a particularly vigorous day. It was her most permanent side effect of one of her mother's 'lessons', and what had drawn her to riding bareback to begin with. Saddles forced her legs further out and to the side, aggravating the injury. The last thing she had expected was for her body to be in better condition forty years hence. It had to have been a magical cure... she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Oh!" Henry cried as it suddenly hit him. "Mr. Gold's!"

"Is he an associate of Rumpelstiltskin's?" asked Regina. She'd heard the two names together a few times now.

Henry opened his mouth, eager to explain, but quickly snapped it shut, his eyes looking for permission from the adults. Snow smirked and nodded. "She knows _of_ the curse. And that an evil queen sent us here, where time was frozen, until Emma came," Snow explained, the way she emphasized certain words making it clear that Henry should be mindful of his words.

Since the curse had broken, Henry had found himself in a position any 10 year old boy with a taste for fantasy would envy: town loremaster. As much as every citizen was an expert on the Enchanted Forest, most only knew what everyone, no matter the realm, does: their life, the people in it, and the few events and names big enough to become famous. Which meant everyone knew of Snow, but few knew Gepetto's name. Thanks to the book, its origins still unknown, Henry had become to go-to guy when information was needed on a person or an event. Plenty of disputes continued to crop up between residents, and without records, it was one person's word against another's when it came to property, feuds, and even family members. To Emma's endless frustration, it turned out that magic had a way of complicating issues, making decisions muddy at best, without a little did you rule on elves, or former elves, claiming their OSHA rights were violated while the shoemaker claims they were contract workers? Most residents were just as unknown after the curse as they had been before, but somehow, all the biggest issues were tied to names known to almost all children in this world.

But Henry had the _real_ stories. While he wasn't officially adjudicating anything, the once friendless boy had found himself being courted by everyone in town. He was in the unique situation of being the only true child in Storybrooke, for while the other kids still had the same immature reasoning skills and emotional maturity of children, they had 28 years of experience to make use of. Many brought to mind children of the corn more than fairy tales, to Emma. She, Snow, and David had all worried that Henry would suffer for it. Emma, that he wouldn't realize that his horde of new friends were largely only interested in his friendship to use him - or even worse, would later realize as much, suffering a mortal wound to whatever innocence he still possessed. Snow and Charming worried the flow of gifts and favors would corrupt the boy, turning him into the worst kind of privileged royal they'd both seen plenty of. To the pleasant surprise, and pride, of all, Henry proved yet again just how smart a kid he truly was. He didn't take sides, only relating the facts as he knew them, and donated all the toys and treats to the new abbey full of orphans. While he had found friends, he turned down the majority of social invitations. It was the shy ones, quiet, just like he'd been before finding the book and Emma, the ones who weren't pursuing his attention that he was drawn to. This had turned out to be, aside from Hansel and Gretel, largely the orphans. He had taken the lessons to be found in fairy tales very much to heart. He'd received what he considered to be the greatest compliment of his life just the day before when August had told Henry that he was more brave, truthful, and unselfish than he could ever be.

Henry eagerly turned to Regina, beaming an infectious grin so earnest at her that it warmed her heart in a literal way that she had never believed real. "Everyone here got a codename... er, a fake name to hide their identity from themselves. So, like, Jiminy Cricket became Doctor Hopper." At Regina's blank nod, he continued. "Get it? Crickets hop! Every name was a clue - it's how I figured out the curse. Well, that, and no kids aging. You know how weird it is for the kids you played with in pre-school to still be toddlers? So, Snow White was Mary Margaret Blanchard. I figured out that Blanchard is French for white, and when I saw in the book that she was on the run from the Evil Queen, she used the fake name 'Mary Margaret'!"

"Like your favorite pony," Regina remarked to Snow.

Snow looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled as she remembered the old mare. "Huh. I haven't thought about her for years... decades, actually, I suppose." She cocked her head to the side. "How do you know about her?" There was a tint of suspicion in her tone.

"You just told me about her yesterday - from my perspective that is. She threw a shoe. That's why you were on the horse that ran off on you."

"Right..." Snow shook her head. "I'd lay money on Cora getting a little help from Rumpelstiltskin to arrange that '_accident', _now that we know she'd dealt with him before."

"She arranged it - knowing I'd save you," Regina stated in amazement as she put two and two together "That witch...

"To get my father to propose," Snow confirmed.

"She knew about our spot..." Regina said, thinking aloud. She flushed in anger, her face twisting into an angry visage they were more accustomed to her wearing. "That blasted witch knew. Just biding her time..." she growled. "She just _couldn't _let me live _my _life. She won't be happy until she gets her way! Even if it put an innocent little girl's life at risk, " she growled. Images of Cora's hand plunging into Daniel chest flashed in her mind. "I didn't think even _her_ heart so black! I guess I'm just another one fooled." It was then that she noticed Henry had drawn back away from her, instinctually huddled nearer to Emma. The bloodrage in her eyes was immediately extinguished at the alarm in his. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - she's just taken so much..." Words failed her and she sighed. "I apologize if I scared you," she said with a naked genuineness Henry had only seen once before today - the moment before she'd run for her life, when she'd declared her love for him.

He had kicked himself untold times for freezing up in that moment. For all the misery she'd caused, Mary Margaret's opinion about Regina had been right. She was a broken, lonely person who deserved pity before malice. Seeing her as she'd once been when she still had a whole heart, had made that abundantly real to him. He found himself dealing with conflicting emotions that no child had words for. He felt like he was beginning to understand how people could love and hate someone at the same time; why they viewed so much stuff in shades of grey. Why they said things were 'complicated' all the time. He was beginning to feel his childhood slip away. And it scared him. He made a mental note to track down Peter Pan; he needed to talk to the man who had vowed to never grow up. He wasn't sure what he was after, he just knew to follow his heart; it had yet to lead him astray.

Regina swallowed nervously. "So... Rumplestiltskin is Gold, huh? Funny..."

"A laugh riot," Emma replied flatly. "And Henry, before you even ask, you need to stay here."

Henry pouted. "Aww, c'mon..." A loophole suddenly occurred to him. "But you said no one should be anywhere alone... not with things being so crazy."

Emma pulled a face, clearly irritated for a moment at the downside of Henry's intelligence. She'd found herself, against all odds, sympathizing with the frustrations Henry had put Regina through in his quest to break the curse. "Can you stay with him, David?"

"You're not confronting that imp without my blade beside you," he replied seriously, giving Regina her first real glimpse at the heroic prince inside Snow's shepherd husband. Even without details, she could see why the pair had overcome all the trials thrown at them. She didn't envy the Evil Queen her task in going up against the couple.

Emma turned toward Snow, but threw up a hand before the brunette could say a word. "I know better than to ask," she said, the smirk and roll of her eyes undercutting any shortness in her tone. She pulled out her phone in exaggerated frustration. "Some families go on picnics, we interrogate megalomaniacal man-trolls," she muttered as she dialed.

"Imp. Trolls are much larger. You have to get quality time with your family where you can..." Snow replied wryly, earning her a raised brow that asked 'really?' just as clearly as if Emma had voiced it.

But the blond's attention was pulled away before she could form a snarky response. "Hey - August. Listen, can you make a beeline over here and stay with Henry for a bit?" A pause as he said something. "Right. That's fine. Just try not to wander off to the island of misfit toys or something while he's with you and we're golden." The voice on the other end seemed to grumble at the jab, making Emma smile mischievously. "I'll see you in five, Eeyore."

"Moved on quickly from the marionette jokes?" asked Snow. Second bright side of to having a grown child? No need to pretend certain inappropriate behavior wasn't funny in the interest of teaching wasn't sure if it was flirting or more of a sibling-esque thing, but decided that the mom's business line would probably have been crossed if she asked. The two were connected in a very obvious way. Henry's pet theory was that Emma's superpower to tell if people were lying was because she went through the wardrobe after Pinocchio. As far fetched as that was, who was she to discount _anything_ as far fetched?

Emma shrugged. "I can't help that his reactions are so hilarious. I've decided on a revolving selection of Pinnochio jokes."

"A lazy susan of jests?" remarked Snow with a chuckle. "You're awful!"

"Says the woman who _sarcastically_ calls her true love charming," smirked Emma. "Gee, I _can't_ imagine where I get it from."

* * *

True to his word, August knocked on the door five minutes later. After a quick debriefing, Emma, David, Snow, and Regina had departed, leaving a disappointed, if resigned, Henry in their wake. The walk was a surprisingly short one, even if Regina was becoming accustomed to the dense nature of the town. Having grown up in a royal manor close to a day's ride away from the closest village, the centralized nature of the town was fascinating for her. She liked to think that if they had lived in such a close-knit setting, perhaps her mother would have been able to see the trees for the forest, as it were. To view subjects as people, not pawns. She'd like to, but nonetheless, knew it was a fantastical idea. If her father Henry's stories about Cora's father were to be believed, and she trusted her father above all else, then her grandfather had been a kind man; and Cora herself hadn't always been the power-mad witch. Something had twisted her, but her father refused to tell. It was the only thing he'd ever been able to deny her.

They soon arrived at a small shop that oozed history. To Regina, it felt like every object contained within was watching her. There was a strange energy about to the place - never mind the odor. For Emma, it was like a museum every time she entered, except that it was the antithesis of sterile. In her time in the foster system she'd seen more museums than most kids. Every kid went on field trips, but while many adults would envy the chance to spend a work day leisurely learning, for most kids, it was more like a jail break. Emma had found herself in the oddball position of having memorized exhibits, despite not having an exceptional interest in most of what she saw, long before visiting them with a school group. It was a weird irony of being in the system. Group homes and foster parents alike viewed museums 'entertainment' that made them look like they cared for the ultimate well-being of their charges while also spending as little time - and most importantly, _money _- on the actual nurturing of each kid's interests. The foster parents in particular liked to simply drop her there or the library, like it was a babysitting service. But, of course, most of the kids, while eager, were flighty and easily bored. Museum pieces were always cleaned meticulously, or behind glass, which meant that despite them being witness to history, they were as detached from being 'real' to her as recreated object meant to illustrate the real thing. Rumpelstiltskin's shop was more like walking into a personal collection. While all carried a little musty scent, their odors combined to give the dark space a vibrant energy of life, even before the curse. She could practically feel the ghostly eyes of passed generations on her every time she stepped inside. It was unnerving in its mildest form and downright terrifying now that magic had returned. Or existed. Whatever.

In any case, knowing that the 'beast' could transform people into an object with a simple wave of his hand was unnerving in this setting. How couldn't it be when the aura of the object that seemed to be eyeing could have easily actually_ had_ eyes at some point?

"Well, what a happy _family, " _Gold drawled.

David drew up on the glass showcase that stood between he and Gold, palms planted, as if preparing for the pounce like a jungle cat. "Stuff it! You pretend to see everything, so if you do, you know why we're here - and why you must choose your words with care."

Gold drew back, pulling himself to his full height, which while it was still shorter than the blond, he'd found posture counted for more than actual size. "Just to be clear?" he sneered "I only see the possibilities. Ya still need to make it happen. Fate won't ever do the work for you." He leaned on his cane. "But yes, I believe I know why you're here." He snapped his gaze on to Regina like a hawk on a rat. "Long time no see, _my lady_. Must be quite... disorienting being here."

Regina met his gaze, and from his demeanor and every one else's, it was was evident to her that she'd had more interaction, in the years she didn't recall, with the terrible half-man than she'd ever intended to. She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Yes. And what of it?" She was determined to not relay any more than necessary, and hid any fears, as best she could.

He narrowed his eyes. "Would you give me your hand? _Please_." Regina hesitated, looking at him warily. In that space of a few moments he'd learned what he needed and waved it off. The clause in their contract for him to create the curse wasn't part of the curse itself, leaving that spell intact. Her need to obey any request by way of a simple 'please' was something only she and he knew. Were it an act, she'd have had no choice but to obey. But still, she hesitated. Her cold "Pleased to meet you"_ before_ proffering her hand, assured him.

"This is most certainly not an act of subterfuge. And what's more... much more interesting, is that her soul has been released of any magical binds placed before her last memory. Yes, quite interesting..."

"What's so interesting?" Emma shot back sharply.

"There is no dark magic that can do such a thing. It comes with a price, and in this case, dark magic would never release its wielder, or target, from something so deliciously costly as a contract of servitude. Not without a mighty price."

Snow raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged flamboyantly. "Ah, well, usually I couldn't pin it down. Life is full of so many possible sacrifices... but to undo the conditions of a contract... given Regina's situation in that area, there would be only one thing she could have paid with. Ah, but I suspect if I value my life I won't be jogging any memories for young Regina here. Suffice to say, that is if young Henry lives, it was not a dark spell that brought Regina to this state." He reached out his hand but paused millimeters above the skin of Regina's hand. "May I?"

She eyed him. He could tell she was doing her best to seem intimidating, but compared to the maturely dark Regina, it may as well have been a puppy's bared teeth. "If you must."

He shot her his best irreverent, but predatory, smirk. "I must!" he replied before he laid hands on her. To his surprise, there was no fairy magic running through her, but simply the residual energies of Nostos and true love distilled from Snow and Charming. He had been pleasantly surprised when he'd returned magic that, unlike blue fairy magic, or his dark magic, the purple energies he'd unleashed were the most neutral of any magic he'd tasted. Love was love, after all. The fact that Bae and Belle could still love him, even knowing the cruelty he'd inflicted - that Regina's father stood by her to the bitter end - was testament enough to its neutrality. Many other dark magic users had considered even _that _unconditional love to be weakness, but his origins as a father first, assured him otherwise. It _had_ brought him this far, after all.

It was what made magic still unfamiliar and how it worked less reliable to all magic users in Storybrooke. It was a new, unfamiliar flavor with no ties. It would take time for all to learn its idiosyncrasies.

As for his ultimate goal, over a century in the making, revealing the scheme would finally play into his hands.

"I suppose you want me to undo whatever caused this?" he asked.

Emma, Snow, and David looked to Regina, but she was clearly ambivalent about the idea. After learning just a little, she already knew her life must have had a lot of darkness in it. Did she want that knowledge back or was this a fresh start? Snow turned back to Gold. "We'll get back to you on that."

"Well, if it's not my magical expertise you require, then I hope it's information you're after. I'm afraid I'm fresh out of any more family heirloom weaponry."

"We think the key to unravelling this is in something you know," replied David evenly. "We know you had dealings with Cora. That Regina had to make a choice." He was in complete agreement with Emma in his opinion that if the Blue Fairy was correct in her belief that Regina was led down the path of darkness by Rumpelstiltskin, that he'd tricked her into casting the curse for him, taking away Regina's second chance would be injustice of the highest degree. How could they take her happiness a second time? For as much as he despised the Evil Queen, he'd never believed Snow beyond redemption when she'd lost her heart. What if they could have all been saved if just one person had believed in Regina enough to save her? He hoped they could get the rest of the council to see things their way. Jiminy would be easy, but the rest were iffy. Never mind the entire city.

"Well, in that case, you would be right. But before we get to that, you'll all need to know what happened before. I assume you'd like to know why your mother became... who she was?" He eyed Regina. As much as he knew of the woman after she'd let the darkness into her heart, he knew equally little about the woman before the ultimate battle between mother and daughter had been waged. As a squalling infant, precocious child, and rebellious young woman she'd held little interest to him, and certainly not worth tangling with Cora again. His revenge would be inflicted by her daughter; the punishment being exactly what she'd done to him, would be done to her.

Regina pulled her hand back. "I always suspected it was at your... _claws_," she replied, trying to make it clear she didn't consider him a man. Or frightening.

"Petty insults rarely hit the mark, little miss," he replied, turning away, as if he weren't interested. "Besides, it's clear you've never understood your mother if you think she didn't bring it on herself. Strange that she'd hold so little regard for the person she sacrificed so much for. Perhaps she was right when she told me you couldn't handle such a burden." Cora had never said such a thing, but he knew nothing drew Regina in more than her insatiable need to prove herself to those who dismissed her. It was part of what made her battles with Emma so deliciously entertaining. The blond was very much like her step-grandmother in that way.

There was a pause so long that Rumpelstiltskin began to worry that perhaps he'd misread the now untainted Regina. But then, to his relief, it came. "You can tell me how it came to pass?" she replied quietly. "Why she..." Memories of the litany of cruelties she'd suffered at her mother's hands, or witnessed done to others, mingled with her new-found memories of Daniel's fate. It was her mother. She wanted to understand, even if forgiveness was a possibility long passed.

"Why she became the twisted witch?" said Rumpelstiltskin. "Knowledge won't bring absolution, you know," he drawled.

"Yeah, but it sure as hell makes it easier to understand," replied Emma. The true story of her abandonment hadn't brought her acceptance of the many sadnesses of her life, but they made the suffering feel a lot less pointless. Just as the parents of missing children said that not knowing their child's fate was a worse agony than knowing their child was gone, she'd found being on the other end of that equation the same. Answers were powerful things. "But if it isn't relevant, just drop the game and we'll leave you to... whatever you're up to now. I'm busy woman, thanks to you and your damned magical carpet bomb."

"Magic or not, for every reward there is a cost. You get your mummy and daddy back, but now you've no time to enjoy it."

His amusement at her family's expense was palpable, but Regina had given Emma plenty of practice at reigning in her feelings. She rolled her eyes, but her right arm shot out to her side lightning fast as she sensed Snow and James both about to jump the imp. She shot them a look that made it clear she wouldn't let them take the bait before turning back to Gold. "Yes, it's all _hilariously _ironic. I'll be sure to inform you if I find myself with 10,000 spoons when all I need is a knife, since it seems to bring you such pleasure."

"No need, dearie. Now, wouldn't you like to hear this little tale or not? You'll have the honor of being the first, in three worlds worth of people no less, to know what the ultimate goal of every deal I've ever made was. The purpose to everything all four of you, and countless others, have been through." He brought a triumphant Bond villain ton mind. Clearly he'd been chafing for years for someone to fully understand his brilliance. She would be only too happy to indulge his little ego trip if it meant bringing his monologuing ass down just like one of those villains.

"Why do I get the feeling that whatever your goal is, it could never justify the means?" mused Snow flatly.

Gold shrugged. "We all decide what's right for ourselves. It's the beauty of free will."

"In _no _world could the number of lives you've destroyed be worthwhile, let alone good," David shot back.

"Is it worth your daughter's life? Honestly, what happened to gratitude? Probably died under the corpse of chivalry, eh? No matter," Gold said with a wave of his hand.

"Gratitude?!" blanched Emma.

"Yes. _Gratitude. _Without me and my deals-"

"That you just said you mad to benefit yourself," Emma interrupted.

"- Cora never would have gotten her husband. There would be no Regina. She and Snow would never have developed that... very _special _relationship of theirs. No one to pluck a shepherd boy from poverty so be could play princey. Snow would never have been in the woods to meet her true love. _No _Emma. _No. Henry._ I think, sheriff dear, it's _quite_ clear you _owe_ me your life. But, I'm a reasonable man. Gratitude would be more than enough." Emma simply glared at him in response. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, the enchanting tale of how a poor motherless miller's daughter grew up to be the most vile, and powerful, witch the realm would ever see." He narrowed his eyes on Regina, leaning forward on his cane. "No offense, dearie."

"None taken," Regina replied, a little puzzled at why he would apologize. It was the truth. The light of his desk lamp glinted off of Gold's signature tooth as smirked back. If Regina ever got her memories back, he knew she would delightfully irked by his implying her to be less powerful than her mother. "You can skip to after my parent's marriage. I've already told them what I know of that."

"Too bad you don't know the whole story..."

"And that would be?" Regina replied, using an irritated tone to mask her trepidation at just how tightly woven Rumpelstiltskin's spiderweb of manipulation went.

"Cora never knew it was I who caused the ice storm that destroyed her family's farm."

"And the reason for that?" asked Snow.

"What do you think? The same reason I caused the illness that befell Duke Alys. Why I proposed that ridiculous cure and persuaded Henry that he should be the one to search for the ingredients."

"To ensure they'd be wed. So they'd have a child. Me," said Regina.

"Glad to see you didn't lose your cleverness when you lost your memories. You'll need them before your journey is through." Gold remarked. "Yes, a child. I foresaw what a child borne of that pair of parents could become. Loved just enough by one parent to maintain a soft, sentimental core; unloved enough by the other to make her become a fighter to jealously guard that soft core. Truly, a powerful tool one day."

"The finest steel is forged in the hottest fire and tempered in the coolest water," remarked David, remembering a conversation he'd had with a blacksmith as he and Snow prepared to take back their kingdoms.

"Precisely."

"I'm no one's tool!" Regina protested, a flare of anger, flamed by a lifetime of having no control over her own destiny, sparked to life in her gut.

His eyes narrowed at the woman, a viciously cruel glint appearing within. "Ah, but you were. And you will be again, for your debt to me can _never_ be forgiven!" he growled.

Regina couldn't help her reflexive jerk back at this sudden hostility. She'd fallen under the the false lull of safety his cordiality had woven. She felt a stab of cold fear go through her heart as his words sunk in. Not only was he not fond of her, he clearly had his sights on her. It took Regina all her self-control not to ask what she could have possibly done to deserve it. Surely her mother was the cause of it. She wasn't evil. A small moment of delight at the idea of beating the imp at his own game fluttered through her thoughts, until she realized that thought - and the calculating version of her own voice in her head - had formed in, and escaped from, the dark prison weighing down her very being. It had certainly not come from her heart. '_I'm __**not **__evil,'_ she thought, assailing the foreign knot of darkness inside her with the words. _'I'm not,'' _she repeated weakly to herself. _'I'm not capable of that cruelty.'_ Even as she said it she knew she didn't fully believe it. It was a nightmare that had plagued her since she was old enough to understand what evil truly was.

A literal nightmare, that consisted of nothing but herself as a ribbon of energy, growing from the fabric of the world around her like a tree sapling. She could never shake the feeling, contemplating the dream when awake, that the energy ribbon was a dream manifestation of her soul. And a vision of her destiny. Another ribbon would come in, joining itself with her, their white light glowing like the sun as they became one. The feeling of being truly whole for the first time, they grew rapidly, stretching up and out like the branches of a tree. Then, suddenly, the other ribbon that made her whole and strong and filled with love was ripped from her. It was like having her very heart ripped out and she thought the very pain of it would kill her. She shriveled and shrank, the light fading to the darkest black, and she'd never felt so alone and terrified. She felt other ribbons, souls, around joy at finding the one that completed them. Her panicky fear was like needles when she felt another get too close, for fear another loss like that would kill her. And continued to shrivel, sure she would soon crumble and blow away like the ash of a charred scroll of paper. Soon she stopped fearing the others, for they avoided her black rotted form. She could feel their disgust with her.

And then she'd wake up.

Knowing what she did about Daniel now, she wondered what had become of her the first time she'd experienced that loss; with the only possible shoulder to cry on being a small princess. As much as she loved her father, she knew he'd have tried to justify Cora's actions. He was incapable of standing up to his wife, even for his daughter. Was this why Snow knew her so well? Had she married Leopold? The thought sent a shiver of panic down her spine, for reasons she couldn't pinpoint. Snow certainly didn't act as if she considered Regina a mother - and that besides, why on earth would she adopt the grandson of her stepdaughter when Snow was right there. She pushed the thoughts aside. She had to focus on what was happening before her. There would be plenty of time for midnight contemplations and questions over tea.

Just as suddenly as it had erupted into venom, Gold's temperament was pleasant again. "You've served my purposes more beautifully than I could have imagined, time and time again. But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" He settled on to a nearby stool, propping one leg out, the other's heel hooked into the bar joining two of the legs. "About two years after Cora and Henry were married, I got word that Duke Alys was expecting his first grandchild. He died rather mysteriously not long after that... something about being pricked by a spinning needle, blood poisoning - I didn't have anything to do with that one, so I'm rather short on the details." He shook his head, the ghost of a wistful smile on his features. "I suppose I should have realized Cora was up to something right then and there. But, of course, I didn't realize she was anything beyond a dishonest and rather manipulative girl at the time. Wouldn't have stopped me collecting, but I could have saved all of us quite a bit of unpleasantness if I'd know what a bother she'd make herself." He sneered his nose at the thought of all the time wasted by her inability to accept that she couldn't have everything. Regina ended up having had the pleasure of teaching that woman that particular lesson. "So, the newly crowned Duke Henry and Duchess Cora now had a keep stuffed full of spun gold and a dutchy worth of soldiers to do their bidding. With no one but the king to answer to."

Even though she'd lived it, when phrased that way, knowing what her mother was capable of, it made her skin crawl. The idea of there being a time before that had always seemed like a dream. A dream she'd forbidden all her subjects from discussing unless absolutely necessary. As if by ignoring it would erase her humble beginnings. Regina had tried to explain to her mother that her story was inspirational for the people; that anyone could change their stars. It could provide hope to the hopeless if she'd just let it. That's when she realized her mother didn't want some street filth thinking they could challenge her power one despite King Leopold's edict that, as stewards of their subjects, all royals must put the happiness of their people ahead of their own, her mother had meant it when she called it pointless, sentimental, drivel. Her philosophy had always been that she got where she got by her own hand - that if someone was poor they had no one to blame but themselves.

"Given the open nature of our agreement - I thought it wise to drop in to collect as soon as possible."

"A piece of the bounty from their marriage," said Regina.

Gold held up an index finger. "Ah!" he cried and made a pinch-like gesture with his thumb and finger, leaving a small space between the two. "A _small_ piece of the bounty from their marriage!"

"Their baby," said Emma, recalling the stories about him, and her own dealings with Gold.

Gold smiled, the expression much more that of an imp than a man. "I like to stick with the classics. They're classics for a reason, you know. I'm no fool. No parent will ever give away their child to the likes of the Dark One." Emma wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but she swore she could hear the tiniest hint of disgust with his existence in his tone at that moment. "And if they would, the child would be better off away from them anyway. No... it's all about the game. Start with a high price, so when they think they've won the negotiation by getting a lower one, they walk away happy. And a happy customer is a returning customer." He giggled, almost sounding like the dark creature he'd been in the Enchanted Forest, sending a chill down Snow and David's spines. Finally getting to reveal the details of his scheme, to pull the curtain back, as it were, was proving far more delightful than he'd anticipated. But then, he considered, it's always nice to have your work appreciated. And soon enough he wouldn't have to worry about any of them knowing his tricks. It was all falling into place. "Little did I know that Cora would be the first to find a way to have her cake and eat it too."

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, so I kinda made a liar of myself. Cora's story will continue in the next chapter. I thought I'd release this chapter without it, as the next will be long, in favor of a quicker update.


	11. Played Like a Fiddle

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to the new faves/follows (and the previous ones too, of course). I have kind of been wondering if the length of chapters are a bit much, being too time consuming to read in one sitting. If you have a preference between party-sized or king-sized chapter lengths, drop me a line.

**Dracomom –** Ah, well, I hadn't intended to imply that the words that rhyme with Alys are clues, but a fine guess, anyway. Wonderland will come in to play, down the line, but hopefully how we get there with unexpected. You're spot on when it comes to my viewpoint of Cora. The question of how that plays into the fact that she's clearly not living in the palace by the time the genie arrives, and the reason for the 'good' King Leopold keeping her in a loveless and childless marriage is a subject I really want to tackle, as I have yet to be seen explored in any fanfic. Glad you're enjoying the downfall of Cora. :)

**Evil. Regal**** – **Lot's of Rumps/Gold in the next two chapters, so here's hoping you'll continue to enjoy how I'm handling him. Figuring out how to express the differences between Gold and Rumps in text has proving a fun challenge, that I've hopefully pulled off.

**Chapter 11: Played Like a Fiddle**

"Little did I know that Cora would be the first to find a way to have her cake and eat it too," Mr. Gold remarked.

"Has she _ever _had it any other way?" asked Regina bitterly. "Fish swim, horses gallop, and Cora always gets what she wants."

"She didn't have her mother. Nor the daughter she wished for," Gold replied. He was tickled when he saw that the gibe had struck a nerve in the former Evil Queen. This one was so easy to read, and play against, he felt more like a cat toying with a mouse than the battle between two lion's prides it had before. He knew the ease would be satisfying at first, but like any sweet dessert, not something he'd want for every meal.

Emma recognized the momentary micro-expression on Regina's face. The flicker of a hidden wound she was ashamed to be pained by in her eyes. It was one she had mastered in the foster system, never wanting to admit she still let herself believe that the next family she was placed with would be the one that loved her as their own - the way Regina had been with Henry; fiercely protective, to a fault even, protecting her from the bullies and kissing her skinned knees. She'd eventually realized that she would have to be her own protector, and that was when the rules began to chafe her. Clearly they were only there to benefit them, to make her as little a bother as possible while they collected the checks. _'You didn't eat all your vegetables? No new set of crayons.' 'You lost your homework? Looks like you're going to have to wait for Jurassic Park on VHS.' _Once she had noticed that every rescinded privilege was followed by her caregiver just happening to treat themselves the next day, the sadness had turned to anger. Eventually, even long passed becoming independent, she saw a friend or lover who wanted to lay down ground rules as trying doing it for themselves.

Or, at least, that's how it was until she met Mary Margaret, anyway. The woman had been so damned guileless, trusting, and selfless that it was impossible for Emma to fool herself into believing her friend was using her when they got too close for comfort. It was clear to Emma that part of Regina still wanted her mother's love. That the woman's mother could still use that desire to make Regina work for it; make her believe that if she just tried a little harder, she could prove herself worthy of her mother's love. She wondered if that had still been the case with the Madame Mayor, and it was just buried behind the woman's fortress of walls around her heart. The thought made her pity _that_ woman, for just a moment. Emma could have kicked herself for being such a softy at heart, if she wasn't certain that knowing Emma pitied her would irk the mayor to no end. This younger Regina was probably the same when it came to pity, but Emma didn't think she could take any pleasure in goading her. In fact, Gold's little dig at Cora's disappointment in Regina had riled her protective instincts more than she'd thought possible. "_Hey!"_ Emma barked at Gold. "Like I said before, if you're just going to dick around with your little games, we leave. But I know you need something from us. So get your ass in gear."

Behind Emma, David nudged Snow, and the pride in his daughter - a woman who could still be fair and stand up for what's right, no matter the person's past, or her own wounds - made his eyes positively sparkle. Not exactly the mouth he would have chosen for his princess, but he knew all too well that sometimes the only weapon you have is words - the sharper, the better. Snow gave his arm a squeeze and shot him a knowing grin back, feeling very much the same. It was a strange place for such a moment, but they knew the looks on their faces would have Emma burying her head in the sand if she saw them, so they indulged themselves for just a second.

Regina shot Emma an appreciative, though sad, look. It was certainly the warmest look she'd ever gotten from the woman. '_Nope. Definitely no fun to be had needling __**this**__ Regina.' _

"I'm merely pointing out that it would seem that the only people that can take away something from a woman of the Mills line, is another Mills woman. And that includes more recent events..."

_'Are you implying she gave me my son back or that she quit the battle and wiped her own mind clean?' _Emma thought as she ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to ask too obvious a question in front of Regina. She should have known Gold would actually have fun with the veiled truths and wordplay it took to discuss practically anything in front of the amnesiac.

"The latest development?" Snow asked and Emma hoped the woman was using her positioning behind Regina to indicate which dilemma. "Or the thing _before_ that?"

She must have, because Gold seemed to follow. "Why must it be either-or with you people?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Emma.

He shrugged. "Could be nothing, could be everything. I'll be sure to inform our _fine_ law enforcement team here should I decide it's relevant." He turned to Regina. "Now, as I was getting to, before I was so rudely interrupted... _your_ happiness wasn't the first thing she stole," he told Regina."Though it did comes at the greatest price. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

* * *

_~Two Years into Henry and Cora's Marriage ~_

Cora was in her seventh month of pregnancy when the man she hoped had forgotten their bargain appeared in her bedroom. Her hairbrush tumbled from her fingers as the imp appeared behind her in the reflection of her looking glass. He wiggled his spindly fingers at her as if in greeting and the whole room felt strangely muffled, like it was wrapped in a giant pillow. "Guards!" she shouted frantically as she spun around to confront him.

But she was alone.

"Don't be getting yourself too worked up now, dearie. It's a dangerous time for that little bun in your oven." She spun around again, nearly leaping out of her skin she was so startled. He was perched on the tabletop of her vanity, a weird grin splitting his face.

"Guards!" she practically shrieked. Although it was less than a year she'd had them at her absolute beckon call, with no higher ranking person overseeing them, she'd grown to rely on them and the servants of her home. _'Where are they?!'_ she screamed mentally. While she'd expected to feel a bit suffocated by their constant presence, the mere fact that she could send them away at one word had alleviated the feeling. She'd found herself depending on their company, their adulation, more than she realized. In the day to day of most of her life it had always been her and her father. It was a strange thing to be dependent on people you had ultimate control over - even if she wouldn't admit those feelings even to herself. It was what she imagined parenthood to be like. Except a child was a little version of you to mold and lift to even greater heights.

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head, regarding her. "Never could listen to reason, could you? I've cast a cloaking spell on this room. No one will be hearing a peep, I assure you." He hopped off the vanity, then ran his finger over the top of the oval mirror's oaken frame as he stalked along, the beginning of his first lap, circling like a shark. He examined the tips of his fingers for dust. "Tsk, Tsk. You know, it's true what they say, isn't it? Good help _is_ hard to find. I can procure an excellent slav- uh _servant_ if you like," he said.

"At what cost?"

He raised his eye brows, but almost looked pleased. "_Now_ you're catching on, sweetie. Tell you what - hows about a lil freebie?" Before she could answer he'd pointed at the mirror and it shimmered for a few seconds. "Water and dust need not plague your furniture _ever_ again! Well, just that once piece there. But I don't do windows, so don't ask!"

Cora stood there in her dressing gown, back against a wall, wielding the sharpest thing in reach - a knitting needle. "Enough! What do you want?!" she asked hotly. _'Never let them see your fear,'_ her father's voice intoned in her head, quickly followed by a flash from her tutor's book of rules that taught new aristocrats etiquette and navigation of the games of political diplomacy. _Lesson 42: The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife. _They'd both been speaking of wolves, of the animal and political sort respectively, but both seemed to apply to this creature.

"Why, just the payment I'm due, dearie," he replied cheerily. "Now don't play dumb with me. I know what you've been up to. Taken quite a shine to the lap of luxury... and the power? What would you give to keep it?"

She could guess, by his timing, that he was here for her first born. She'd heard the rumors about the Dark One. Some seemed more plausible than others. Like when he'd led the children off the battlefield during the first Ogre War, only to kill their parents in front of them, boiled them in their own tears, and gobble them up. That seemed... unlikely. But there was a curious pattern to his dealings. Much centered on children. Once she'd fallen pregnant, she knew what she had to do. She couldn't ask too many people, or too directly, about what they knew of the Dark One when merely a lady of the duchy. It could bring suspicion about her and where she'd gotten her magic spinning wheel. But if she were the duchess, she could use as many resources as she had gold; buy and swear servants of the realm to secrecy upon penalty of death. Once the Duke was out of the way she acted quickly, sending knights to find what they could - under the guise of surveying the people to find out how to better serve their needs. Henry had thought it a fine idea, and she reflected for not the first time, that growing up a royal must soften the head - they had no appreciation for the real value of wealth. It wasn't luxury, or relaxation; it was power over your own destiny.

So yes, he likely wanted her child. But she wasn't about to bring it up first. She hardened her eyes, putting on a face far braver than what she felt inside. _'Fearless. Fearless,' _she chanted to herself. "And what would you have from me? Surely you needn't riches."

"Not of the gold and jewels variety, no. I'm a fan of the riches only a _family _can bring."

Cora furrowed her brow. Could she talk him out of this? It _had _been part of their deal. "The Dark One can't love," she declared.

Rumpelstiltskin feigned hurt. "You wound me madame! Even monsters bleed..." He dragged the long fingernail of his left pinky across his cheek, splitting the flesh and letting it ooze out in an unearthly slow fashion. "See?!" he giggled as if he'd just shown her a delightful party trick. He covered the wound with his hand and after a purplish glow flared up he let his hand drop, wound gone. "And so, you see, love isn't beyond my reach, either." His face turned deadly serious. "Perhaps you shouldn't rely on gossip and fish tales for _all_ your information. You never know who that old beggar could really be," he growled menacingly, slowly stalking toward her frozen form. Just as she could feel the hot stink of his breath on her face he suddenly bounced upright, back into nonchalance. "Though I hear it's a delicacy among the more fetid of my brethren, I would_ never_ eat a child..." He wrinkled his nose. "Too stringy!" he remarked with a bone-chilling unearthly chuckle at his jest. "So, I'll just be taking your _daughter_, there. When the time comes."

Never had she been so conflicted as having the elation at finding out her child's sex strangled out by the threat of her being stolen. She was having a little girl! And she would lose her, if she wasn't clever enough.

A predatory grin oozed across Rumpelstiltskin's face. He knew what he'd done. Stolen one of the most precious of moments for any first time parent - and tainted it. It was the first warning fire across her bow, reminding her that he wasn't to be trifled with.

"Our agreement was clear. I can choose you take something else."

"And I can choose to refuse it. So choose wisely."

"What conditions must this offering meet?" she asked.

"Now where's the fun in telling? I find keeping the rules to myself much more helpful in winning."

Cora set her jaw and swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady even as she clutched protectively at her belly. "The contract states my choice should meet your needs, so-"

Rumpelstiltskin threw up a hand. "Alright! Alright! There's always more than one path to any goal. I suppose the important thing is that your family be formed of loss. Just like you lost your mother, _someone_ in your darling little household is losing a parent."

"What could you possibly stand to gain by destroying my family?!" she replied in horror. She understood playing games to move yourself above and beyond, but how did anything with a soul seek to destroy other's happiness just for their own amusement? Of course, perhaps that's what made the Dark One, dark. Maybe it was simply someone whose soul had been destroyed by dark magic and not a husk being possessed by some demonic beast.

"Destiny is made by what we choose to do when life is _un_fair. Few people have to make the truly tough choices, you know. They get to live their dreary little lives, telling themselves whatever little lies about themselves they wish, never truly having those beliefs tested. I'm simply interested in making sure your family isn't one of the lucky ones. Tragedy has a way of forcing people into those choices."

"Losing my mother, our farm? Those weren't awful enough?" she replied in disbelief. "How much more must I suffer?"

"It's not all about you dearie, hard as that is for you to fathom, I'm certain. You've already made your choice. That's why we're having this discussion remember? Besides, its not about suffering - it's about making sure your family sits on high; a whole kingdom under your command! Don't you want a throne for your precious daughter?"

Cora narrowed her eyes at him, her posture relaxing ever so slightly in her ponderances. "Why would you care if my family should sit on the throne?" She had to admit the idea intrigued her. And she hoped her baby to be propelled even higher than herself.

"Let's just say, I'm a fan of families getting what they deserve," he replied with a wink. "You want to get what you deserve, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"So don't look a gift horse in the mouth!" he snapped back. "They can bite, you know." He offered Cora sarcastically courtly bow. "Well. As lovely as this has been, may I suggest you speak with your two doting men? Talk it over. I'll be back tomorrow night, when the clock chimes eight. And a word of advice? Never let family stand in the way of a good opportunity. Or was it don't let opportunity stand in the way of a good family? Ah, well, I suppose I'll leave you to figure that out."

Cora glanced down at her rounded belly as she felt a kick. Her first kick. As if her little girl was ready to take the imp on herself, if she could just find a way out. She'd only looked down for a second, but when she looked back up the imp was gone and the air felt lighter. She realized she could hear the crickets in the field again, and the rustle of a servant's skirts as she passed in the hallway. Another kick and Cora beamed down at her belly again, rubbing it. "You're going to be brave and strong and a fighter, aren't you? A queen, should you wish." Her face fell as she heard the clock chime eight times. "If I can figure this out. But your family loves you, even enough to take on the Dark One, himself. And win."

The candle on her desk had melted away almost to the nub when her husband finally joined her in her bedroom, just returned from a moonlight ride. She was pleased when she had gotten big enough to have an excuse not to join him. Henry called them relaxing, Cora called them boring. Especially when he would want to lay out a blanket and discuss the constellations. As it turned out, he wasn't as much a dolt as she'd first assumed, which was a relief when it came to her child's potential. Sadly, he had filled his head with sentimental and ornamental drivel. Chivalry, honor, duty, constellations - competitive horseback riding! It was all the same. If it had no practical use, he was an expert, it seemed. He was a dreamer. And while she had to admit, being the focus of it was rather intoxicating, and somehow he'd wormed a place into her heart with his charms, his lack of practicality also infuriated her.

He sidled up to her, took a knee, and planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth, then one on her belly. "How does this night find you my dear?"

Cora wrinkled her nose and pulled back. "How many times must I ask you to change before you greet me after your ride? You know that stink of horse and that swampy stable yard has made me queasy ever since I fell pregnant."

Henry smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry Cora dear. I just had to check on m'lady and m'baby before I washed up."

"Yes, well, we're fine." She looked down and shuffled the stack of papers she had in front I'd her.

Henry frowned. "Something is amiss?"

Cora propped an elbow on the desk, and rested her forehead against the back of her hand. _'Lesson 36: Never touch your face with the palm of your hand or fingers if bare, lest the skin become over oiled and pores clogged with dirt.' _She sighed. "I had hoped never to need reveal this, but it seems I have no choice."

Henry's face clouded with worry. "What has you so vexed? You should never carry such burdens alone."

_'Here it goes,' _she thought. She pulled down every protective mask, every wall, and then focused on all the fright and worry and sadness swirling inside her, giving it free reign, and then amplifying it. She would need all the sympathy possible to rush him past the lies and deceit and into sympathy. Tears pricked at her eyes and she let out a shuddering deep breath. "I fear that a deal I made, to find my happy ending, has come due. I fear for my safety, but more importantly, our_ daughter's_ safety!"

Henry's expression flitted between confusion, alarm, anger, and love, as if his heart couldn't decide which path to take. To her relief, it seemed to settle on love. "We're having a little girl?" he said in soft wonder. Then his eyes widened in alarm. "My baby girl is in danger?! What must I do?"

_'__**And **__the baby's mother. Your __**supposed**__ love!' _she had nearly blurted out. She pushed the urge down, choosing to focus on the positives. He wasn't angry. "We must send for my father. You and he are the only family we have in this world. And it must be a family decision." He nodded and sprang to obey, sending a footman to retrieve his father-in-law from the east wing of the estate, where he was quartered.

Cora let the tears flow freely now. "Oh, can you ever forgive me? I never thought it would end this way!"

Henry wrapped his arms around his wife. "Shh. Shh. I know you would never harm anyone on purpose. There's nothing to forgive. I'm sure you did whatever you did because you believed it to be your best chance."

"How can you say that without even knowing what I've done?" she sniffled, her tears slowing as she was genuinely taken aback by his conditionless understanding. "Because the mother of my beautiful baby girl could never do something so terrible that I wouldn't love her."

Cora tensed for just a moment. _'Not because you know me? That I would never do such a thing?'_ she wondered. Realizing she still had sympathy to garner as she revealed her subterfuge of their first meeting, she focused on the tears once again. She forced herself to relax, but somehow her heart felt a little harder, the tears a little more difficult to summon.

As her father was retrieved, Cora told Henry of the misunderstanding that had occurred the day they met - more or less. She explained that she didn't want him to lose face. That though she had heard he and his father were kind, she had suffered rude and even cruel treatment at the hand of visiting royals at the smallest perceived slight. That she was frightened he would be the same. She neglected to mention that she'd lied about the commonness of nightingales in the region, but _did_ tell him that his kind gift had inspired her to seek out a powerful wizard rumored to be in the realm, in the hopes of trading his gifted cloak for the items he needed.

"Please, don't mention the details to my father. He was_ so _against the deal. It's a point of contention between us to this day. He needs to know, but... I don't wish to reopen old wounds." And she hadn't informed him of her planned deception.

Henry looked into her eyes, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "As you wish. I know even more than before how precious and fleeting the relationship is between a father and his child. I don't wish to add any more bad memories than any your strife has caused." She gave him a small smile, but further conversation was halted by the arrival of her father.

The fit but aging man bowed with his typical lack of grace. It mystified and embarrassed that her father was every bit the living embodiment of the old saying, 'you can dress a donkey like a prince, but he's still just an ass'. She'd suffered over a year of etiquette lessons, rules being drilled into her head, to fit in and live up to her new status. Yet, she still saw visiting dignitaries giggling behind their fans and gloves at him, when they thought she wasn't looking. "Duke Alys." Still, gods help him, he tried.

"How many times must I say, you _must_ call me Henry," her husband replied genially. She often wondered at his reluctance to drop formalities with Henry. Had she not hidden her own embarrassment of his foibles well enough? He didn't seem to be suffering the dementia of old age.

Her father gave Cora a warm smile. "Cora, dear." He finally saw the tears on her cheeks and he approached. "What's wrong? Is the baby alright?"

"She's fine," Cora replied with a muted smile.

A mirror for Henry's reaction, her father's eyes grew wide. "You're having a girl? Did you see a soothsayer? If this is the news, I can't fathom the tears. Then again... your mother did weep with joy the moment she first saw her daughter. Hers weren't the only watery eyes that day, I confess." At the soon-to-be parent's somber expressions he was pulled from his nostalgia. "It's not about the baby, is it? It's not as we feared...?"

Cora nodded. "It is. He's returned." Her face scrunched up as she tried not to cry. Once she'd let the barriers down, she was finding it hard to raise the dam back up. "He wants my baby, Papa."

Henry stepped aside as her father rushed the few strides to quickly take his daughter in his arms. He knew sometimes one needed their father to make them feel safe. As he let the two have their moment he couldn't help the smile that continually tugged at his lips. _'I'm to have my own little girl.'_ It was surreal and terrifying and he absolutely couldn't wait all at once. He felt as if the only thing keeping him from floating away in his joy was the anchor that was Cora's disturbing news. His beautiful wife had turned out to be more complex than the image of the clever young beauty he'd met in the woods, but his father had assured him that it was the way of things - especially with young people. That love wasn't about loving someone because you could see no faults. It wasn't loving them in spite of their faults, but _for_ their faults _and_ perfections, all the same. It was, after all, what made them the person you loved, just as there can be no light without the dark. Now was certainly his first test. His first chance to prove his love for his wife - and his devotion as a father. He hadn't even seen the little babe, but he already knew he would lay down his life for her. But he wondered how Cora could have promised her first born. Did this mean she didn't feel the same? "Please, Cora. And before I say this, know that I will support you however I can..." he began softly. Father and daughter stepped back from each other's embrace. "But I must know... how could you give away your future child..? For wealth and the life of my father, a man you didn't even know?"

Cora fought the urge to lash out at such an assumption. - that she had entered into a contract knowing _that _price? As the angry, and hurt, haze cleared from her vision she saw it; her way to get him to take the guilt. To make him in _her_ debt, so he would blindly follow her plan. "I did it for a young kind man, who surely had just as loving a father just the same. For a man who made me feel like a princess the moment I spoke to him. I did it for you Henry. For love." She teared up again as she turned to him, took his hand, and gazed into his eyes. "But I didn't know the price. He merely asked for a favor to be named in the future. Oh! How could I have been so naive?" She dropped his hand and spun around, hands over her mouth as if ashamed. She saw her father blanch for a moment, but Henry's was too focused on Cora to notice.

Henry gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey... you cannot blame yourself for this. I never should have asked a simple farm girl for help when she was so clearly in need. Curse me for simply wishing to have another moment with you in the wood!"

Cora hung her head, her shoulders sagged, and she felt Henry's arms wrap around her. "I thought myself so clever, asking for an escape clause, too! To be allowed one chance to offer a substitute payment!" she said in feigned despair.

Henry's ear perked up at that. "Then all is not lost!" He spun her around to face him and she feigned confusion. "Don't you see? Whatever he would take instead of our child is worth the price!"

Cora shook her head. "He said a child must lose a parent. I take that to mean one of us must go with him. It must be one of us. Our daughter must lose her mother or her daughter before she even knows them... or I must lose my father..."

"You shall lose neither - I will give myself to this Rumpelstiltskin," Henry declared. "I can think of no one better to act as a father in my stead than the man who raised my Cora."

Cora's father shook his head. "No. Your family is young. It's a father's place to take his children's burdens onto himself, should he be able. I've raised my family. My granddaughter should should have her father."

"You misunderstand me," replied Henry. "I shall return. Nothing can stand in the way of true love - I would take down a dragon with my bare hands for the life of my daughter. I shall find a way back."

"Or die trying," Cora's father shot back. "Your heart is true, but I know all too well that there are some things even true love cannot conquer. Cora would still have her mother if it were so." He gazed at the reflection of the flickering candle in the bedroom window. He'd always liked to imagine it as the ethereal reflection of his wife's soul still by his side. "And you underestimate the power of the Dark One."

"The Dark One?" Henry asked, the pitch of his voice hitching up in alarm. "Surely just a legend."

"We didn't know, we thought him just a tricky little wizard at the time. But yes, we believe him to be the one of legend," replied Cora quickly, trying to patch up any inconsistencies between her story to Henry and her father's comment.

Henry ran a hand down his wife's arm. "I see now why you despair. If legend holds true, he is ruthless and not to be trifled with. We must be quite careful, and cleverer still." He sighed. "Still, I cannot fathom how to outfox him when all we know is legend."

Cora took Henry's hands. "There is one last thing I need tell you. I have been sending servants of the realm forth on a quest to gather what information they could on this Rumpelstiltskin. Everything they have found is in that stack of parchment at my writing table. I only did it to be cautious, after I learned I was with child. I didn't tell you for I didn't want to needlessly worry you. And when I heard that he was known for taking children... I was going to tell you but your father was ill.. and it never seemed the right time after he passed. I hope you will not think too poorly of me for the deceit..."

"For sparing me distress? Never." He gently ran the back of his fingers across her cheek. "But you're as stubborn as your father, you know. He won't call me Henry and you won't let yourself depend on those that love you. What must it take for you to realize you're never alone?"

It was a lovely idea, and she allowed herself to be lulled into it, warmed by it, but only for the briefest of moments. Her mother's clammy, slack hands held in her small, warm ones flashed in her mind's eye, reminding her that everyone leaves eventually. And someone has to be the last to left. She knew that her father could have just as easily been taken along with the disease that took her mother. He had suffered from it first. But only by the grace of the gods, she hadn't been left alone. Powerless to determine her own fate. But Henry didn't understand that; he'd never been faced with the possibility, and she was sure that his naiveté would get him killed one day if he couldn't see past the veil of sentimentality. The world always favors the bold and cynical in the end."I wish I knew," she lied through her teeth.

"Perhaps our daughter will teach you," he replied, placing a hand on Cora's belly.

'_Perhaps __**my**__ mother already taught me the truth,' _she thought. "I hope so," she said aloud, and surprised herself when she realized part of her meant it.

Cora's father watched this exchange and his heart sank. Henry may not be able to see through his daughter's deceptions, but he could. He had hoped that she might find love with the young man. Henry was a good, kind, and devoted husband; he could ask for no more in a man for his daughter, but he knew very well that love comes from the heart - not the head. Now that she was carrying his child, his heir, there was no option but to stay with him. But with the revelation that she was having a daughter, he hoped she would finally be able to mend the wound in her heart that was inflicted the day her mother died; be able to finally let go. And then, perhaps, she might even be able to let Henry into her heart. He knew what must be done for his girl. "Henry," said, his voice steady and steely as a broadsword's blade; a blade that cut through the energy vibrating between Cora and Henry, gaining their attention. It was the first, and possibly last, time his voice had carried a regal tone to match his royal clothes. "It must be me."

Henry blinked, taking the sudden shift of demeanor in the other man. "If your resolve is so strong that it has made you finally use my given name, I know I cannot argue. I wager you just as strong-willed as your daughter. It seems to be a Mills family trait."

"That it is," Cora's father replied simply. "And you honor me by respecting my wishes."

"No, sir. You honor me by making this sacrifice for my family," Henry intoned. "But know this: I will do whatever is in my power to bring you home safely. I know not how, but tomorrow will not be the last day my wife sees her father and you _shall _see your granddaughter."

"Papa, you can't!" Her intention had been for Henry to go with Rumpelstiltskin, freeing her from matrimonial bonds she hadn't desired, letting her pursue a better match. "Who knows what he's capable of, or what he has planned for you!"

Her father simply regarded her with soft, sad eyes. "Henry, I would like to have a moment alone with my daughter, if you would allow it."

The young royal nodded. "Of course. I understand." He planted a feather light kiss on Cora's tear-stained cheek and left the two to have their moment.

After the sound of Henry's boots on stone had faded Cora erupted. "I can't let you do this! I won't! Let Henry take our baby's place in the exchange! I intend to attempt to rescue him," she pleaded. And she was being truthful. She was fond of the man, if not in love. And he was the father of her child. But all that aside, the death of two dukes of Alys in less than a year would bring far too much suspicion on her. She planned to mount a campaign to 'save' her husband and play the grieving widow. Should they succeed, she would get over the loss of a new future, but she knew from her intelligence gathering that it was unlikely they would. "I can't lose you Papa!"

Her father wrapped his strong arms around her; one at her waist, the other the back of her head in a manner reminiscent of how he held her as a babe. He shushed her quietly as he stroked her hair. "I will always be with you - in this life and the next. Have faith, my little sparrow. All things happen for a reason."

"But _whose _reasons?" The crocodile tears were gone now. Every tear of Cora's that rolled down her father's neck, where she'd nuzzled her face, was genuine now. She sniffled, trying to get a hold of herself, thinking she must look a fright. _Lesson 27: Whether laughing or crying, if in public, a lady must be mindful to not emulate a farm animal, but a babbling brook in winter. _

"Ours is not to worry why, ours is but to do and die," he said, his tone making the phrase sound more like a prayer than an old adage.

Cora's breath hitched at the word 'die' and she buried her face harder into the spot where neck meets collarbone on her father. "How can you just have blind faith in some higher plan?" she asked, voice muffled by her father's coat.

Her father's hands found their way up to her shoulders. He gripped them firmly and gently pushed her back so he could look her in the eyes. He almost gasped from the pain of his heart breaking when the russet eyes that looked back were those of the confused and frightened little girl he hadn't seen in years. "It's not some mysterious higher plan, it's _my_ plan." Cora furrowed her brow in confusion. "Cora... I love you more than life itself, and I realize the danger I'm putting myself in. But I couldn't live with myself if I let you lose your second chance at true love."

"I don't understand..." her voice barely above a whisper.

"You already traded away your chance at finding your soul mate. We all agree that under no circumstances will 'Stiltskin have your baby, but a little girl needs her father if she is to grow up feeling as happy and loved as is possible. You can't create a hole in her heart before she's even born... A wounded heart never fully heals, and I will not chance the possibility that you may not know the true love between parent and child simply because the child's heart is too guarded to love anyone completely."

"But you just said, every girl needs her father," she protested.

"No. Every _little_ girl needs him. You're a woman now, Cora. My sparrow is ready to fly on her own, and if it takes me pushing her out of the nest to show her, then so be it. But then, my job will be complete."

Cora shook her head. "Job? But you're my father. You'll _always _be my Papa..."

He nodded. "Indeed I shall always be, whether I'm here or not. We all must leave someday, child. Sometimes too soon, but should you not be able to rescue me, I shall rest easy knowing I have raised a beautiful, confident, and capable daughter. You'll understand one day, when you've been a parent. This is our job and our hope and the only goal that matters in our lives. Have you never seen a parent who grieves a child they have lost? They have failed in the way that truly matters most, and most cannot help but be consumed by the grief." He cupped her face in his large calloused hands. "That is my final lesson to you, my dearest. We cannot know what this world has in store for us. But whatever may happen, but gods forbid you ever lose a child, never let the grief of loss consume you. Instead, you take back your happiness any way you can. Do you promise me this?"

Cora swallowed hard and nodded. "I promise Papa."

He smiled. "Good girl. Your mother is so proud."

"How can you know that?" she asked.

"She is your mother," he replied simply.

Cora hugged her father once more, but unlike before, she simply rested her chin on his shoulder and stared at the reflection of herself and her father in a sea of black in the glass window pane. The glass was clearly antique, likely crafted by hand in the village before the great goblin factories of the Erlking Islands were founded. It was distorted by waves and bubbles, and time had given it the appearance of having melted, which twisted their reflected appearance. She knew she was imagining things, but a trick of light and distorted glass gave the appearance that an empty abyss, about the size of a woman, her mother, was between them. Whatever her father said, no matter how much she wanted to believe it, her heart told her it wasn't true. She would only do her mother proud by keeping her deathbed promise. He couldn't understand that, and she knew she couldn't explain it, so she let him go on thinking she agreed.

"I'm going to find a way to save you," she vowed with hushed passion.

He sighed. "That's not your job."

"It is now." Her voice was particularly resolute in tone.

He knew the sound well and couldn't help the gentle, nostalgic chuckle that rose from his chest. "You sound more like your mother every day. She thought nobody could stop her when her mind was made up."

"Maybe _nobody_ could stop here. But some_thing_ did."

"Sometimes that's the way of things," he replied.

"Who says?"

He could hear the steel in her eyes, even as her head remained nestled against his neck. He knew that the beautiful hubris of youth was also its folly, and there were some things a person could only fully understand by learning the hard way. And then try in vain to teach their children the same lesson. "Do you know how your mother fell ill?"

Cora drew back, a look of worried confusion in her eyes. She searched his face. "It was winter. She got sick..."

He shook his head. "I think you are old enough to understand the real truth now."

"The truth?" she asked, a note of betrayal in her voice. "You lied to me?"

"Sometimes a parent must lie to spare our loved ones pain. Especially children. She gave her life so that I, and thus you, may live," he replied sadly.

"Papa, I - "

He had never spoken of this to anyone and was certain that if he didn't say it now, he never would. "I was short-tempered in my younger days. Your mother said she loved my passion, but it got me in trouble - but no trouble greater than the night I insulted a gypsy clan. A traveling caravan of them had arrived in the village - to put on shows, trade, and share news of distant lands. This happened to be just before Thom Umber's wedding, and we, his best men, decided to give him one last night of debauchery before he was pledged to a wife. Well, another one of the lads decided to hire the visiting gypsies as the night's entertainment. Music, dancing, and of course, plenty of wine. I was more cups in than I should like to admit, when this olive-skinned beauty began her dance. She looked more like a dark fairy than a vagabond. She leapt and dipped with the music, the tails of her ghwazee coat flapped and soared as if trying to take flight with every twirl. I was entranced." Cora had been unconsciously backing away slowly, and she now slid herself onto the foot of her bed. She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, her form largely lost among the draped folds of her dressing gown, her slippered feet poking out and the bottom as she settled the arches of her feet on the intricately carved baseboard. She had never heard her father speak so eloquently, though she had vague memories of him telling stories into the night by the fireplace, and that her mother seemed to be just as enthralled as Cora. _'Wordsmith,'_ her mother had replied when a very small Cora asked what her Papa did all day. _'He may plant and mill grain all day, but he is a wordsmith in his heart. Remember that a person's work doesn't define then, but their heart's passion.' _He hadn't spun a single tale after her mother died. Like his heart's passion had died that day too.

"I would never cheat on your mother. I loved her too deeply. But the fiery desires that are the bane of all young men convinced me that a dance would do no harm. I stood to dance with her, and at first she played along, drifting close but always fluttering away before touching. Even in my drunken haze I could see some of the gypsy men eying me, but I assumed it was simple jealousy. It only encouraged my boldness, as I tried engage a courtly dance – the type that require holding the other's hands. At some point, I sprang on her like a cat on a moth, and lifted her - spun her. While still aloft, she kneed me in the gut so hard I dropped her. Her eyes shot daggers at me from under her ebony locks of hair as she lay sprawled on the ground. I hadn't noticed that whole group, on both sides, had frozen, waiting to see what would happen. I was too angry, my ego bruised. I cursed at her... called her a name that would make a pirate blush... that was my true mistake. I didn't know it at the time, but the girl was betrothed... and the musicians were her four brothers. Honor dictated them no other option but to attack me. They had to protect her honor. They tackled me, and my friends came to my defense. I don't know how long the brawl went. Only how it ended. Do you remember that I was sick first? How when I suddenly got better and your mother suddenly got ill?"

"I was a child... I thought you just got better..."

He shook his head. "All those fighting froze at once, as if by magic - which it probably was. A gnarled woman who looked older than the woods themselves stood above me. She said this was between myself and the clan elders. That only fire, not blood, would cleanse the dishonor visited on her clan. That I should be cursed to be devoured bodily by the same flames of passions I allowed to engulf my heart. What happened next, I am not sure. I awoke in the horse's trough, which should have been freezing, but I was too hot with fever to tell. I later found out that the gypsies had brought me home and explained to your mother what had happened. She had them dump me in the water to keep my fever at bay. Days passed and even the wise woman's herbs would not break my fever. I was delusional almost constantly when awake, and tormented by fever dreams when asleep. Still, I would never have let your mother do what she did had I been right of mind. Your mother could find no one who knew anything else to do. But she refused to let me go. Somehow, she tricked the gypsies in to telling her how to contact someone who could help. She was already far too gone to the fever to tell me how, but she had acquired a potion that let her take my curse from me and take it into her."

Cora's father now knelt at the foot of his daughter's bed clutching at her skirts, as if pleading. "She was convinced that _she_ could beat the curse. That she was strong enough." He blinked back his tears. "You're like her in _so_ many ways, and it brings joy to my heart every day that a little piece of her remains, but..."

"You're afraid I shall share her fate," Cora stated sadly.

"I have one more promise you must keep, Cora. That you will _not_ save me at the cost of your life, your daughter's life, or even Henry's. I cannot bear to carry the burden of another life lost in exchange for mine. It's too great a price!"

Cora gathered up his hands, wondering at how small he suddenly looked, on his knees before her. "I promise," she replied through her own stinging tears.

"Then I can rest easy, and that in and of itself is a precious gift," he replied.

"And I shall not rest until you're safe once again, or I have lost you," she vowed. She glanced up at her vanity mirror, thinking she heard something peculiar. She narrowed her eyes at her own reflection, studying it. Something felt... wrong.

Many league's distance away, Rumpelstiltskin sat before his own mirror, watching the scene unfold. A gruesome grin twisted his face from behind fingers tented before his lips. The girl would have to learn much and learn it quick if she was to have even a sporting chance to take him on. Lessons like you never let an imp cast an unknown spell in her home - especially on a mirror. He giggled at his little act of mischief, and was surprised when Cora seemed to lock eyes with his own. "Interesting..." he remarked quietly to himself. "Well, let the games begin, dearie. First event: Bait and Switch."

* * *

Mr. Gold cocked his head to one side. "Quite the touching little scene really. I might even feel a little guilty now about the whole thing if I didn't know what Cora was in her heart of hearts." She shrugged.

"You mean, what you made her," replied Regina darkly.

"What do you mean 'might feel guilty _now_'?" asked David suspiciously.

Gold raised an eyebrow at the other man. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm no longer the farcical, giggling little imp you knew and loved back home."

"Have you been sending him valentines?" Snow mumbled to Charming.

"What? No appreciation for the cupid who brought you two together _and _made sure you had a happy ending?" Gold asked. He received nothing but glares from everyone present, but didn't seem to care. "Very well. The point is, in a land with no magic, I was able to reclaim much of my humanity. And my beloved has been returned to me. I'm far more man than imp now, even with my magic. Only one final puzzle piece left, and I will be whole."

"Are you going to tell us what that final piece is supposed to be?" asked Emma. "Or are you saving that for a dinner party game of Pictionary with the little misses?"

"All in good time, sheriff." He rolled his eyes up and tapped the end of his nose thoughtfully. "Tonight, in fact, if you'll be good enough to stay behind when I've finished with this little story. I believe it's time to cash in that favor you owe me..." he said pleasantly, as if asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

"My daughter will not be left alone with the likes of you!" David declared hotly, taking a threatening step towards the trickster who had used his family too many times before.

Emma put a restraining hand on his shoulder. She looked at him in puzzled exasperation. The whole overprotective-father thing was still novel enough that she could put up with it, but more than once he'd undermined her efforts to exert her legal authority over a town full of scared, lost people by trying to step up and do her job. She knew his intentions were in the right place, but this wasn't the land of fairytales, and he was not a king, even if people regarded him that way. As she understood it, not even all the people in Storybrooke came from kingdoms under his rule, raising the question of why his authority should surpass that of Midas or Thomas. They were, however, all currently under _her_ jurisdiction, so until a new mayor could be elected, legal authority had fallen to her. Every time he answered a resident's question directed at her, or insisted he should go in her place for any dangerous task, he was chipping away at people's confidence in the 'Savior'. She didn't want to be the 'Savior', even now, but she did want to do her job. And at the moment, that included using the whole 'Savior' nonsense to keep people calm and organized. Snow had tried to explain that he was overcompensating for all the times he'd let his family down while under the curse, and to give him time. She could understand that, she was still going through a lot of the same with Henry. The difference was that Henry was a kid, and she was very much not. But Emma was beginning to question how much time they had to let him adjust. "Look, I appreciate your concern David, but I can handle myself b_y_ myself. It's kinda my thing."

He frowned, his heart and his head still very much at odds when it came to his very much grown baby girl. "But you don't have to act alone anymore," he protested.

"But she _has_, and she _can,_" interjected Snow, and her heart alighted at the discrete, grateful smile she received from her daughter in return. "Don't make me say 'and that's final', Charming. Don't test me - I will," she teased, trying to remind him of how he was making Emma feel by ordering him about as a child. They had had this discussion a few times now. "I put my very life in her hands, and she didn't let me down even when everyone else had," she stated when David seemed ready to continue his protest. "You need to put your ego aside, and act on the faith and trust she gave her the day she was born." It was a low blow, using his behavior under the curse to guilt him into acquiescence, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook until he did.

Finally, his body relaxed in resignation. "I believe in you, Emma," he offered by way of apology, and Emma couldn't help but smile back.

He couldn't have known those were Henry's last words to her before he'd almost died, but Emma had started to believe there was a little bit of magic behind the charm of Charming. Since awakening, he no longer stored his feet in his mouth; instead, he had a knack for saying just the right thing at the right time. Even when she'd think she saw the Nolan in David rearing its head, he'd save himself with a few choice words. It was why, for the life of her, she couldn't seem to stay irritated with his behavior long enough to buck against his overprotective tendencies like she normally would have by now.

Regina, watching this whole exchange, felt a surge of jealousy rise within her, and it had daggers for Emma, wondering why _she_ had been blessed with Snow White for a mother. The strangeness of envying a woman a mother who may very well be her step-daughter quickly knocked the jealous impulse out of her mind. Not to mention, the blond being the mother of her adopted son. For all she knew, Snow may have learned how to step into parenting a child while getting to know her, from Regina herself. Her mind tried to untwist the logic of the whole situation and it quickly gave her a headache. She sighed and tried to simply feel grateful that her father had been a devoted and loving man, if not possessed of the the will to fight his own wife for her.

Mr. Gold leaned over and whispered loudly out of the corner of his mouth. "Family, eh? Even the healthy ones that wont for nothing have their strife," he remarked.

Clearly he'd intended his tone to convey mockery, but he couldn't completely mask the jealousy in his heart. Not from the likes of Regina at least, and she wondered how this tied into his schemes. Still, after what she'd just learned, her distrust for the imp had risen to healthy levels of disgust. "Healthy? They seem pretty screwed up from over here," she replied. She hadn't raised her voice any louder than Gold's but even a few centuries of nick-knacks couldn't stop her words from carrying in a space so small. Snow, David, and Emma eyes were all on her at, clearly not sure what to make of the remark. Regina did her best to pretend she hadn't noticed them looking, but couldn't help but cringe at the scrutiny. Still, she kept her attention on Gold. "I mean, they don't even know how to be a family, yet, really. That was stolen from them, just like you twisted my mother and stole whatever chance at a happy family I ever had! But who can blame them? Who has parents their own age?! Who has to deal with being forced to abandon their children two generations in a row? They haven't gotten the chance thanks to some terrible curse I'd bet you had _some_ hand in, given how much you seem to be benefiting from the whole affair, and on _top of it all_, rather than use your power to shoulder some of the burden done at your hands, and fix the destroyed property or help people find their missing loved ones, you're still selfishly scheming in this little curio shop of yours! It's no wonder you and my mother had so much history together! She should have married _you _and saved the rest of us the trouble!" she huffed. Realizing she was out of breath, she simply glared at the pawnbroker.

Emma smirked in surprise. "Yeah. What she said." This younger version of Regina continued to surprise her. Rather than the low growl of a well thought out speech Regina had thrown her way more than once, this woman's unrehearsed, high-pitched diatribe felt much more genuine in content and motivation. She knew what she was hearing was very much what Regina believed. Even better, it seemed to throw Gold off-balance as he calculated his best next move now that his nemesis was playing an entirely different game.

He didn't really care what happened to the former queen, so long as he got what he desired, which he considered lucky for the woman. Unless some unforeseen event should reveal itself, and there was little that was unforeseeable for him, then Regina was a rather worthless piece on the board. He'd used her for what he needed. He would tell them what he knew of Cora, but only to keep himself somewhat in Emma's good graces. The blond was every bit her parent's, which meant keeping her happy was wiser than infuriating her. He regarded the flushed red, inexperienced Regina before him. The Evil Queen had required the exact opposite approach. It was the only part of her circumstances that was a shame, really. He would miss toying with her. _'Ah well,'_ he thought. He was old enough to know that everything, good or bad, had its end.

Gold knocked twice on the floor with his cane, aping some kind of medieval gavel. "Well, then, have you all gotten your venom for me out so I may continue? I haven't even gotten close to the best part. Cora was always a sore loser, but even I was surprised by what she did when I took her father."

"Wait. My mother always told me her father died in a hunting accident," replied Regina. She had assumed Gold's story would end with her grandfather being rescued, only to die tragically shortly after. Cora never failed when she was determined to have her way.

Gold shrugged. "That's correct in a manner of speaking. But really, are you so surprised she veiled the truth from you?" At the irritated twitch in Regina's mouth, he nodded. "As I thought. Now, where were we? Oh, yes! The following night I came back as I said I would, having watched their scheming late into the evening and the following day. Henry had sent men to gather intelligence from as far as they could reach in half a day, but they learned no more than Cora had already collected. They formulated a plan to get me to allow communications between Cora and her father after I imprisoned him, and a secret code which they could use to relay messages of their rescue plans. Quite adorable, but I suppose you had to be there. Or perhaps I could simply show you? I tire of this endless rambling. Bad for the throat, you know, and I have travel plans to draw up."

He swiped his fingers across the glass countertop of one of his display cases and it rippled like water in response. But instead of remaining clear, it turned opaque and settled into what appeared to be a view from Cora's vanity mirror. Regina gasped, having never seen what looked like painting made of living people, but more importantly, the images of her parents as young adults, and the grandfather she'd never known. Snow was fascinated as well, noticing that Cora seemed to have always had a sharpness to her elegant features. Regina looked very much like her mother, but softened in the face and gentler curves by her father's build. She found herself glancing between the image of a young Cora and Henry, and Regina. She hadn't realized it before, but while the Evil Queen had very much had her mother's eyes, the Regina beside her had her father's eyes. Even as Mayor Mills, the woman had them when she thought no one was watching her watch her son. She supposed it had to be the presence of love in her heart. Perhaps Regina had never truly lost that last shred of her humanity after all.

The group leaned in, as if to hear better, despite the sound so clear it was as if they were in the same room. They were going over their plan one last time, nervously eying the clock which was about to strike eight.

* * *

**A/N: **Cora's story continues in the next chapter, and then we'll be rolling through a lot of young!Regina in Storybrooke and the Charmings dealing with the town/council. Now, if I've done my job right, I will have succeeded in my personal challenge and you'll come away with a little bit of sympathy for Cora at the end of the Rumple's tale. That's like squeezing blood from a stone, of course. Review and let me know how I'm doing, won't you?


	12. Promises Broken I

**Author's Notes: **There was a reason I asked about length the last time. This is the most epic chapter I've ever written (certainly in length, and possibly in content), so I'd love some feed back after this Herculean thing. I'm almost certain this will be the longest chapter in this fic (by far) so for those who prefer smaller bites, don't be frightened. ;) As it is, I still split it into two for your convenience, though I'm posting both at the same time. This is essentially a chapter within a chapter. And that's because...

I'm trying something a little different with the narrative style here. It should only be for this chapter, but it was the best way I could figure to put the movie in my head on to the page. Main thing you'll notice is the occasional interjection of our friends in the pawn shop as they watch the story. These will be italicized. I promise there's a rhyme to my reason, though the payoff will largely be at least a few chapters from now.

**Responses: **Many thanks as always to those who left a review, and/or followed/favorited.

**Anonymous Nerd Girl**** - **I agree regarding the attention span thing. Ooh! Shinies!

Where was I...? Oh, right.

**Dracomom - **LOL! Mea culpa - I deserve the strangling ;) Hopefully you'll feel nicely satisfied by the info/answers in this update. Not that they don't lead to their own questions... I would definitely say this section has a certain 'Slaughterhouse 5' dynamic to it as it dances between time periods, but I'll be happy if I pull it off half as coherently/smoothly as Vonnegut did.

**Content warning: **This is the first chapter that really lives up to the T for teen content rating. Nothing more graphic than you'd see on network tv, but it does lightly touch on language, violence, and some (not so) sexy times.

Finally, believe it or not, all the details in the 'spy' stuff, from birds to apple juice, to tools, are true and work. So, fun crafty stuff to do the next time you need to entertain a kid on a rainy day, I guess.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Promises Broken I**

Cora had to admit that at least one of Henry's little hobby interests turned out to not be so useless after all. While she hadn't been surprised to learn that Henry had been a fan of adventure stories as a child, his passion had for the types of tales of intrigue that are filled with secret rendezvous and double crossing spies, was. She supposed it made sense, given the fact that the heroes of those stories won by the pen rather than the sword - Henry had never been handy with a sword or bow. So, he had read up on all the duplicate little tricks of the trade. When this was all over, Cora had decided, she would make it a point to have her husband teach her what he knew. If he was still in her life, that is.

At the moment, Henry was perched over his writing table, putting the finishing touches on a map of all the kingdoms, marked with drop points where they would hide stashes of gold thread, which Cora's father would take it with him. On the off chance he should escape, he would be able to find his way to a gold drop point and then have enough assets to secure passage home. The miller had never been farther than the borders of the Duke's territories, and he didn't have the time to memorize such a vast amount of information. The map had been created with invisible ink, or more precisely, apple juice from their orchard. Once dried, the juice was no longer visible - until heated over a flame, at which point it would become opaque again when the acid in the juice cooked. Cora couldn't help but feel a bit demoralized, despite this ruse, as she looked at how little they had been able pull together in one day and realized Rumpelstiltskin could have produced it all with the snap of his fingers. How does one even compete with magic that single handedly ended the Ogre Wars?

Her dark musings were broken by a pair of hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see her father's worried eyes. "Do not give up hope before the battle has even begun."

"The battle began the day he arrived on our farm, father."

"Fine. The _final_ battle," he replied warmly.

Henry carefully folded up the 'blank' parchment and handed it to the miller. "Hope you set aside room for this," he remarked. They had sewn, or rather, had the seamstresses, up the entire previous night and morning pulling out the lining of the miller's clothes, adding secret pockets and the like, which would allow him to covertly take all the items needed to receive, and even send messages should the opportunity present itself. This was all banking, of course, on the hope that as a magic user, Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't think to check too closely for mundane methods of subterfuge.

The miller slipped the piece of parchment into a slit inside his fur cap. It was perhaps the most important item, as it was impossible to reproduce if lost. Amongst the other more important items they had outfit him with was a magnet, metal needle, and piece of cork with which to fashion a crude compass, a piece of flint, a spool of thin thread, a bird whistle, and a few dried leaves of nightshade. It was the only item Cora objected to, but both Henry and her father had insisted that they couldn't know what the imp had planned for him; that it would be cruel to not provide him a way out should 'Stiltskin torture her father, or even worse, use magic to turn him against his own family somehow. The nightshade had been hidden in a false panel of a silver heart-shaped locket, behind a portrait of Cora. The reasoning had been that the imp would never take away something that reminded the miller of what he'd lost. The pain could only fade if the memory did as well, after all.

As the eighth and final chime rang the three froze, awaiting... the imp failed to immediately appear, the tension in the room became muddled and confused. "You don't suppose he just...?" said Henry quietly.

"Forgot?" replied Cora. "We'll sooner see him forgive the debt than forget it."

As if in answer there was a quiet clink. Then another. The next was louder, and they realized it was coming from the window. This time they saw the source of the next clink - a pebble bounced off the glass. The three huddled around the window and peered out the pane. There, standing in the garden two stories below was the disturbing little man, grinning up at them. His gold-speckled and large, wild eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Cora slid the window open as quickly as the age-warped frame would allow and leaned her head out.

Rumpelstiltskin had changed his pose, now holding his left hand clutched over the spot where his heart should have been, and his right hand raised. "Hark! Doth mine eyes deceive me, or do I spy the queen of men's hearts in the heavens?"

At a complete loss, Cora could only think to ask precisely what was on her mind. "What are you doing down there?"

"Why, I'm here to collect true love." With a puff of purple smoke, a white rose appeared in his empty hand. "If you can think of a better way, I'd like to hear it!" Cora glanced back at her father and Henry, both of whom looked as puzzled as she felt. Turning back to respond, she was only somewhat surprised to find the imp had disappeared. "Now..." she heard 'Stiltskin's voice coming from her bed and spun around. The was Henry's first dealings with the imp, and witnessing such magic was clearly unnerving him more than Cora or her father. The strange little man stood at the foot of the bed, offering the milky white flower, its magical origins were evident from its faint sparkle, much like the imp's own skin. "Care for a trade?" he asked. Cora's eyes shot daggers at him while the two men were less successful at hiding their trepidation. "What? Don't like the color?" Despite its cut stem, the rose's petals seemed to seep up a blood red color until no white remained. "Better?" he leered.

Henry stepped forward, placing himself in front of Cora. "You stay away from her and deal with me," Henry declared, sounding much more timid than he'd intended. He swallowed hard and set his shoulders back, awkwardly trying to make himself as intimidating as possible, which given his short stature, was the first time he could remember even being larger than a foe. He was all stocky muscle now, as a young, active man, but had been short, pudgy, and shy as a boy; the target of other aristocratic children, he hid away with his books or out with his horses. He was now feeling very much in over his head, without even a few boyhood routes under his belt.

"You do know I'm not here for your wifey, don't you boy? Now, what's inside her..." the imp leered.

Henry's temper flared. "You're not taking my daughter!"

* * *

_Back in Gold's shop, Regina felt her stomach flip from queasy at the sight of Rumpelstiltskin coveting her unborn self, to her heart glowing with pride at watching her father step up for her. Still, it was bittersweet, as she wondered what had happened that she never saw him with such fight when it came to Cora. _

_Emma felt her own father inch closer to her instinctively, followed by Snow, but did her best to not roll her eyes. After what she'd been through with Henry, she could understand, even though it was unwarranted. She was far more interested in this version of Gold, looking much more like what she would have expected Rumpelstiltskin to look like. She understood quite clearly now why half the time people referred to him as an imp or other less-than-human monikers. Her first look at this creature had sent an instinctive shiver down her spine at the realization that she had put the safety of Mary and Henry in the hands of that creature. She discreetly stole a look at Gold, who was pretending to do paperwork of some kind. He wasn't watching but he could hear every word, and if she wasn't mistaken, he was less than comfortable with being reminded of the creature he used to be. Or what he'd done. But, she realized, it was likely his way of pretending he didn't care a whit about whatever had happened. Telling them with his own voice would have been too hard. _'What in the world are you after?' _she wondered at him, and almost jumped when he looked up. She glanced back down quickly enough to avoid any real eye contact, but couldn't be certain he hadn't noticed her looking. But then the worse realization hit her - he was looking for her reaction to the events unfolding in the glass below. _'God, I hate this back alley crap. What's wrong with just being direct?'

* * *

"Oh? And who _am_ I taking, then?"

"I have volunteered to take my granddaughter's place," the miller replied.

The imp nodded thoughtfully. Not that he was actually thinking about the deal. Thanks to the enchanted mirror her was privy to every detail of their little scheme - and it was playing out exactly as he had expected it to the day he'd drawn up the contract with Cora. But he didn't want to tip his hand. He had plans for that mirror. "Dandy!" he replied, finally. "Let's go then, my noble miller."

Cora pulled her hand out of her father's and pushed past Henry, her eyes ablaze. For all her fear, she had twice as much rage, and with a plan under her feet, she was feeling bold. She jutted her chin out in a defiant posture. At seven months, she was clearly pregnant, but still agile enough that the gesture wasn't hampered by an ungainly, waddling gait. "Wait! There are conditions."

"Oooh. The Little-Bit thinks she's ready to play for keeps now, does she?" Rumplestiltskin's manner turned deadly serious in an instant. "_No one_ demands a thing from me!" He flung out a hand and moved it as if squeezing something - Cora's father immediately clutched at his chest, falling to his knees.

"Stop! I apologize! I meant no disrespect!" cried Cora.

Rumplestiltskin made one last squeeze before he relaxed his hand, and the miller nearly collapsed on the floor, panting for breath. The imp then made one quick stabbing motion at Cora. She clutched her belly and let out a gasp, the stabbing shot of pain that sliced through her loins making it impossible to scream. And the next instant it was over, not even leaving the phantom pain equivalent of a stubbed toe. "Are we clear on where we stand or shall I continue to demonstrate on your little girl next?" he threatened, the venom practically dripping from his voice.

"You harm my daughter and so help me, I will find a way to bring the wrath of the King's whole army down upon you!" said Cora, on the verge of tears - though even she couldn't say if they were of rage, or fear.

"You'd have to make it out of this room alive first," he sneered.

'_Lesson 25: __In preparing for battle remember that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.' _Although things were going largely as planned - it was a plan Cora had drafted alone; not the one she had laid out to the me, for neither was duplicitous enough to be relied upon to carry it out. And she knew neither would have agreed to anything that ran the risk of harming her. She had studied every account of people's encounters with the Dark One for months, and believed she'd sussed out his basic pattern. She had opened with an aggressively disrespectful push; too hard and fast. His expected parry - a demonstration of his power, had followed followed just as she predicted. Next, Henry, who _so_ wished to be the gallant Savior would...

"Sir! I beg of you, forgive us!" Henry cried out, clutching an arm around Cora. "It's the baby playing havoc with her humours!"

...attempt to salvage her 'clumsy' show of force and bring them back to the plan they _had _discussed - pleading for the world like ants before a god.

"We mean no disrespect," he continued. "We simply wish to know what we would be sending a beloved family member into; what we're agreeing to, and perhaps - if you judge us worthy of such a kindness - allowing a degree of comfort in his exile. _Please._"

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow, and just as Cora had bet on, he slowly smiled. "Ah! All you had to say was the _magic _word!" he replied, then eyed Cora. "You could learn more from him than you think. Such as a little humility."

* * *

"_It was an honest piece of advice," Gold idly remarked, still not looking up from his busy work. "Underestimating your enemy is the quickest path to defeat. Breeds laziness."_

_Emma snorted. "You're one to talk." _

_This time he did look up. "I have committed many a sin, Miss Swan, but blind arrogance isn't one of them. You should know better than anyone that life is nothing but a masquerade ball. Only a fool shows up without a mask." With that, he returned to his papers. "And the wisest carry more than one. Cora taught me that much."_

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin turned back to Henry. "Now, you tell me your requests, I'll tell you if I can grant it. Simple enough?"

"It isn't much," he replied. "But first, I suppose I should ask. What are your intentions?"

The imp smirked sarcastically. "Funny. I don't think I've been asked that since I was a young man courting beautiful girls."

"Well?" Cora replied impatiently.

"Well, I don't intend to take his maidenhood, if that's what you're asking." He giggled at his jest. "I simply wish to keep him prisoner in a place you'll never free him from, spending the rest of your days wondering after his health, or if he even still breathes, leaving a void in your heart that can never be filled."

"We wish to know he will be comfortable," Henry stated.

"As comfortable as any manservant can be," replied the imp.

"And that he may see his granddaughter," said Cora.

"No."

"But-" began Cora.

"Ok, once. _One_ solitary time," interrupted Rumpelstiltskin.

"Thank y-"

"I wasn't finished!" the imp snapped. "But only on the condition that it be to trade your daughter for his return."

"What kind of deal is that?" cried Cora.

"An unfair one," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "Feel lucky I'm offering even that much! It wasn't part of our agreement! _Now._ Any more 'demands'?"

"One hour to myself each day," replied the miller humbly. "Outside, If you would, please sir."

"Should you try to run you _will_ be killed. i don't even have to be there. Do you understand this?" asked the imp.

The miller nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Very well," Rumpelstiltskin sighed, doing his best impression of feeling put upon. The whole thing was a farce, of course. He knew precisely what their plans were and he wanted them to have their little attempted jailbreak. It would take Cora down the path he needed - the repercussions would ultimately force Cora to fulfill her potential and transform her from an arrogant, bitter, little selfish girl who thought the world owed her, to a vengeful woman with a lust for power, and the anger to take what she wanted from the gods themselves, should they have something she coveted. A woman willing to sacrifice her very heart - and enact the darkest of curses, should she have a mind to. And he would make certain life dealt her the cards most likely to take her down that path. "But you make take only what you have on you right now," he added and couldn't help grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. Toying with them, without their knowledge, was just too delightful! "Now. Say your goodbyes. Make it quick."

Cora wrapped her arms around her father tightly. "I will miss you so much Papa. You are so brave..."

The miller's eyes were dry, but he was certain the lump in his throat would choke him shortly. "No braver than you, my darling. Now, promise me you will tell my granddaughter what I sacrificed for her - that I would gladly do it again. I know this because I already love her so much, it hurts. And that she owes it to me to live a good life, one of dreams fulfilled."

"I will, Papa. I promise. "

* * *

_"Well, she kept** that **promise," Regina grumbled bitterly. "I don't know how many times I heard how he sacrificed himself for me. How he expected great things from me and I owed him. The whole 'follow your dreams' part seemed to slip her mind though," she remarked sarcastically. She shook her head. "I've spent far too many years resenting the wrong person..."_

_Snow and Emma exchanged a look behind Regina's back. Apparently it was a pattern. But was it a pattern grown from lies sewn by Cora? They were both realizing that it could very well be the case that Regina was much more a pawn, manipulated from the womb to become the monster she never wanted to be, much like when Snow's heart was turned black by Rumplestiltskin's potion. As a reluctant savior, Emma couldn't help but sympathize - assuming it was true, she had to remind herself. She had a lot of questions for Gold. 'Stiltskin. Whatever._

_Gold looked up and the scene on the glass shifted to what must have been some time later, as Cora was no longer pregnant. She sat at a desk, shuffling papers and counting out stacks of gold coins. She was disheveled to say the least - hair thrown up into a messy bun, no makeup. It was the least pulled together Regina had ever seen the woman. It was so strange that she hadn't even noted the other person in the room - until the sounds of a fussy baby hit her ears. Henry sat in a rocking chair nearby, cradling a baby with a thick shock of dark chocolate brown hair. He placed his pinky finger in his daughter's tiny mouth and she quieted as she suckled._

_Snow raised an eyebrow and couldn't help smirking at Regina. "A daddy's girl from day one, huh?" Regina might have had a remark in turn, if she wasn't transfixed by the scene before her whose supreme domesticity was only surpassed by its weirdness. She simply nodded, only barely aware of what the other woman had said. _

"_So... Cora wasn't exactly maternal, huh?" said Emma, noting Regina's bewilderment at the sight. _

_Regina nodded and her eyes narrowed as she realized what had made the blond say that. She - the baby Regina - couldn't have been more than six months old and there was her mother fussing over finances or something while her baby clearly needed her attention. She felt her lip curl up in disgust. Had there ever been a time that woman had put Regina's need before her own? "Somehow, I guess I'd always assumed that it was something I did - she's always been quite clear that the person I turned out to be was nothing like she wanted; that that made her distant." She shook her head. "I guess I wanted to believe it - thought I remembered a better time. Nothing specific. Clearly, I was fooling myself. That woman never wanted to be a mother." Her voice tightened and she fell silent._

_Emma studied Regina. She was clearly holding back tears and seemed pissed that she was upset over it. She knew the feeling. Before having the weirdest family reunion of all time, she had assumed her parents were dumb kids at best - and downright monsters at worst - and just as likely. Who else leaves a baby to die of exposure? But she still found herself occasionally, usually three drinks into a private pity party, wondering why she wasn't loveable enough. And later, if her son wondered the same thing. She couldn't help but look at Snow. She knew she was loved now - and still pissed with herself as she saw the mingled look of jealousy and pity on her mother's face as she watched baby Regina. This woman was the mother she had always wanted. And they had both been robbed of it. To make matters worse, the woman was her age. At least Snow was stronger and more world-weary than Mary Margaret. Building a mother-daughter relationship with a woman almost as naive as the Disney Snow White would have been nigh on impossible. At least she could see herself getting there at some point with this one. As much as Snow tried to hide it, Emma noticed the sadness in her eyes when Ella, baby in hand, was around. That look was back. She put her hand on the small of her mother's back, breaking her attention from the scene below, and offered her a smile. She knew the feeling, but she'd had years to move past it. Not to mention, Emma had had a choice. Snow and David didn't._

* * *

Henry stood up and crossed the room to stand behind Cora. "I think she's hungry." Cora froze, but didn't look up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Maybe you could try again."

She turned around and looked up at him. "If she won't latch by now, she never will." She shook her head. "It's like she doesn't even want to." She knew it was stupid to feel rejected by a baby, but couldn't help the hurt.

"You remember what the nurse said. You need to relax - if you can't neither can she."

"How am I supposed to relax when my father is the prisoner of a deranged imp hell-bent on punishing this family just for his own twisted amusement?!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.

Henry seized the rare opportunity of Cora being empty-handed to offer his little bundle to her, resting the baby against her arm. As if by instinct, she wrapped her arms around her baby, holding her tightly to her chest. Almost instantly the baby began to squirm and make sounds of protest. Cora squeezed tighter and the baby began to cry in response, waving her tiny pink fists about. "You need to relax - just let her be. Support her, don't try and squeeze her into not moving," guided Henry.

Cora frowned in frustration. "She doesn't like me," she replied, clearly pained at the idea.

"She doesn't like being restrained. Relax and let her cuddle into you. She'll guide you and tell you what she needs..." he said softly.

Cora closed her eyes and drew a deep breath in through her nose, willing herself to stop, relax, and really feel the warm, soft little weight in her arms. She smelled of tallow, rose oil, and lavender powder, clearly not long from the bath. Cora sighed, forced her shoulders to relax, and leaned back into her cushioned chair. To her surprise, her daughter quieted down and began to play with the flower pendant that dangled from a long golden chain around Cora's neck. She raised a single eyebrow and smiled up at Henry. "I still think you're a better mother than I..."

"Nonsense. I've just had more practice." He knelt next to Cora and placed his hands on her knee. "You need to slow down and spend time with her, or else before you know it, you'll have missed everything."

Cora frowned. "Every day that passes is one that her grandfather doesn't get to spend with her. How much must he miss for my own selfish time spent with her?"

"I'm sure he would understand. I'm sure he _does_ understand," Henry offered.

"I don't care if he does - he shouldn't have to." She looked down at the baby in her arms. "She shouldn't have to. Right, my little queen? My little Regina," she said softly before laying a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

_Adult Regina was watching the scene with hard eyes. "Well, I guess I was able to make her happy once. Too bad I can't remember it."_

_Emma thought back to her own vision of herself as a newborn and David and Snow's few moments with her, and how strange it had been. The images were still burned into her brain, as brief as it had been, and she considered for the thousandth time whether she should mention it. It wasn't like she remembered being held or, thank god, being born or anything. But the feelings - the love and the terror of it all was very real and while she couldn't be sure, she believed the emotions to be an echo of what she really experienced. Watching Regina, she realized she should be thankful for what she has now and stop pussy-footing around with her parents. Easier said than done, but she realized it was simply wasting more time. Regina would never get that opportunity._

* * *

Baby Regina began to fuss again and Cora looked to Henry. "I told you..."

"And I told you. She's hungry. If you could just put that aside for half an hour-"

'_Lesson 2: Opportunity is rarely a lengthy visitor.' _Cora shook her head. "I don't have half an hour. I spent half the day spinning gold, as I'm the only one who can. If I had the luxury of help with that I would certainly take it - but I'm not so fortunate. Now, I need to prepare this note before the birds move on for the night. You know that," she snapped. "Take her to Josie. That's what we hired her for, isn't it?" She shoved Regina back into Henry's chest.

"You keep this up and Regina will think the nursemaid her mother and you'll have gone dry," remarked Henry sadly.

"At least then I wouldn't feel like a neglected dairy cow, leaking through my best blouses," she muttered.

"Is that worth the price of time with your daughter?" he asked.

Cora narrowed her eyes at him."Watch your words, Henry," she warned before picking her quill back up. "We have a whole lifetime ahead of us. When our family is whole again. I don't need your guilt - I've got plenty of my own, thank you."

Henry gave her a sad look and sighed before walking out the door. A smile returned to his lips again as he cooed at the baby in his arms before disappearing down the hall while Cora stared at a lengthy scroll.

Shortly after her father had been taken she'd hired the services of the Hands of Midas, a guild of thieves and spies. With enough money, she could count on their leader to maintain their discretion with an iron fist. It was good to have unlimited gold, and she took a certain joy in using the imp's spinning wheel to finance his downfall. In the end, she was sure she knew more about the dark imp than anyone else. Perhaps even the Dark One himself, since she'd realized that it had not always been the same man consumed by the being. Rumor had it there had even been a woman or two. As desperate as she had ever been, she couldn't imagine giving up her very soul simply for power. What was it for if you lost your family?

She regretted not being with her daughter more, but it had to be done. She couldn't have a daughter without her father. She didn't know much about being a mother - but her father had been a wonderful mother and father to her for most of Cora's life. Who could teach her if not him?

She shook the thought from her mind. Now was the time for focus, as all the gold and time had finally paid off. It turned out that her father had indeed been half-right during their first encounter with Rumpelstiltskin. There was a way to control the Dark One - stories from the Hinterlands told of a knife which bore the name of the Dark One's earthly vessel. And that if one possessed it, one could control the Dark One. She shuddered at the thought. The last thing she needed was to constantly be watching her back for fear of the clever little imp getting the blade back. But she was interested in the dagger's other supposed property: the ability to slay the Dark One. Upon first hearing this she wondered why, in untold centuries of time, no one had simply slain the beast before. Thus, before she could hinge a rescue plan on this information, she needed to get reliable confirmation. She had finally gotten word of it just the day prior. In one of the far-flung villages lived a very elderly woman, by the name of Widow Morraine Egwene, who claimed to have known Rumplestiltskin when she was a small girl, even before he became the Dark One. Despite her advanced years, when asked, her fellow villagers claimed she was as whip-sharp as any of them, so despite no one having heard her speak of it before, they took her word as gospel. Cora herself still doubted the veracity of her claims until she was told that the woman refused payment, simply saying that she owed it to a boy she'd known long ago to set Rumplestiltskin free of his curse, if she could. She then told them that the knife had the ability to kill the Dark One - the only thing in this world that had. When asked what this had to do with a boy she would only say that Rumpelstiltskin had once had a son, and no more.

While interesting, the only tidbit that Cora cared about was the knife. She knew it had to be in the imp's home. Someplace hidden, but secure. So, she was penning a missive in apple juice again, for her father. Their correspondence was rare, but she was secure in the knowledge that he was well, and that Rumpelstiltskin had been true to his word and let him go out each night. Her father would play his birds calls, the plan being that he would play the songs of all known breeds of carrier birds every night, and when they had found the imp's castle they would send the best choice possible. When a bird with a message finally found him, he would send confirmation back, and call for that breed every night. It had taken about a month for the Hands of Midas to locate the imp's castle, but once found, they were able to quickly add the location to their network of covert correspondence carried on the legs of their preferred birds - those least conspicuous in the shadows of the witching hours - the nightingale. Pigeons and doves were far too obvious for their use, and nightingales not only made excellent homing birds, but were intelligent and naturally active at night, making their songs completely unremarkable to the unsuspecting.

* * *

_The scene shifted to that of Cora's father playing a sad little tune on his bird whistle, and Regina realized she'd heard her mother whistle or hum it in her softer moments. This bird call was one punctuated by hiccuping tweets that brought mind the sobs of lament, and she recognized it as the nightingale's song._

_Gold looked up. "I'll give the miller this much. He was a clever man for one born so low - but then, so am I," he remarked with a low chuckle. _

_David regarded him through narrowed eyes. He wasn't sure what to make of the imp's behavior. He'd crafted an air of mystery before the curse, and their efforts to dig for information had largely been fruitless. Even the fairies knew nothing about Rumpelstiltskin beyond what they knew of the Dark One in general. It had been enough to imprison him, but if the Evil Queen had taught he and Snow anything it was that the best way to defeat an enemy was to use their personal weaknesses against them. But you had to know something about the person for that strategy. They had gotten the impression that Regina knew something about the imp, but she was about as helpful as Rumplestiltskin himself and wasn't about to play a card in her hand if she didn't have to. It was about all she had left to save her skin and he was certain that they could have gotten some of it out in exchange for leniency - but now that was lost even to Regina herself, if they couldn't safely restore her memory. _

_Now, this mysterious girl appears the day the curse broke, Belle he thought he'd heard Henry call her, though the name seemed to mean far more to Henry and Emma, even Snow had gotten a surprised look at the girl's identity. It was moments like that that made him realize she'd truly spent 28 years in this land, living without him, and was very much less a visitor than himself. Snow had simply said that Rumplestiltskin seemed a bit short to be the beast, his family laughed, and he played along. Moments like those drove home how much more distance he had to cross to truly understand his daughter - a woman that had been shaped by this realm, and he envied Snow that much. _

_Not a week in and his lack of false memories of this world had proven as much a blessing as a curse. He had been empowered by regaining his memories, but most of his friends seemed troubled and changed after regaining their true identities. Snow hadn't been immune, and when he asked after her about it she had simply said it was a matter of having decades of bad decisions to remember and regret, and often repeat, thanks to the way the curse kept them from noticing they didn't age. And then, knowing that some part of you was that person. She had needed only to remind him of Kathryn, and he didn't need to hear any more._

_So, what was 'Stiltskin up to? Showing he had a heart with his love on his arm? Showing them these things - clues about his origins? And now he wanted to tell Emma something. For some favor she owed him - and he would have to ask Snow about that as well. He reluctantly tore his eyes from the lithely built man, forcing himself to look at the magical window into the past as 'Stiltskin set the scene. "I knew of their little clandestine messages by tweety birds, but as Cora became... obsessed shall we say, she and Henry didn't discuss things so often, consumed as she was by love for her father, I suppose. And that clever old miller managed to keep every one of those little notes to himself. Still, I knew enough. Or so I thought." He smirked and looked at Regina almost nostalgically. "I've only met one opponent more formidable than your mother, Ms. Mills."_

_"I suppose that's supposed to be some kind of compliment?" replied Regina tensely. _

_Gold nodded. "Something like that." _

_"Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware - since you seem to know **so **much about me - I am nothing like my mother."_

_The snake was back in his smile and Regina had a flash - Gold, not Rumplestiltskin - in a garden, she stood under an apple tree - her apple tree. He was smiling that same smile, taunting her with some secret, and the fear she'd felt that day flooded her senses; but more importantly, the pure loathing of the little man. Over... something. She felt the desperate anger, bubbling yet sharp, and sickly green, alone again, no one but herself to rely on as-_

_"Cut the crap, Gold," Emma's voice rang clear in her ears, cutting her line of roaring emotion. _

_"I simply was offering Regina-"_

_"You heard my daughter. Don't disrespect my family," warned Snow. _

_"Any of them," added David and Regina was surprised to find Snow and Emma's hands, one on each shoulder, and she wondered how reliable that memory could have been, as she was filled with a feeling she couldn't quite identify. Of being supported. Of not being alone. Of people willing to risk their own safety to stand up for her - which was something that, as much as her father loved her, hadn't been able to do for her. The last ribbons of the memory slipped her grasp, supplanted by this new and much more pleasant feeling for the people around her. It reminded her of what she felt when she was with Daniel. His slack, lifeless face flashed in her mind and she was suddenly unsure. A reflex in her wanted to push any feeling of dependence with these people away; to not trust it. The reflex frightened her more than the fear that came with it, though. _

_Gold threw his free hand up. "My apologies. No need to sharpen the pitchforks." He looked back down into his sales ledger, but continued talking. "Cora would send her father these little notes, written in apple juice - invisible until exposed to heat. Her father would burn them as quickly as he read them. If I'm not mistaken, this was the evening he had received his orders to uncover a very important object. My achilles heel, if you will." _

"_His weakness," clarified Snow at Regina and David's blank looks._

* * *

It wasn't long until a nightingale appeared and perched on the miller's shoulder. He gently picked up the bird and retrieved the small scroll around its leg. He opened his hand and the little messenger took off, disappearing into the night sky. He unrolled the scroll and held it up to the torchlight. As the heat spread,his daughter's immaculate script faded in, becoming visible.

Key found. Locate

hidden dagger marked

with its name. Further

details when you've found it.

Love you Papa. Be careful.

Eternally, your sparrow.

He immediately held the note closer to the flame and watched as it flared and disintegrated into black ash. It hurt every time, as if he was burning up a piece of himself; to destroy something that had so recently been in his daughter's hands and he sighed. This time, though, he finally had something to do, and his heart was a little was the faintest light at the end of the tunnel.

He quickly began another bird call, the bright song of the whippoorwill, letting his mind drift as he kept the facade that was his excuse for getting time alone each night - that let him get these missives. It wasn't terrible here - Rumpelstiltskin had turned out to be a fair, if insulting, master. He might have even been a charming man if he weren't a monster. He even found himself with the free run of the property many days. He was magically locked in, of course, but the imp was constantly off on business during the day. He had used the time to search the place from head to toe, which, given how detail oriented the imp was, meant time consuming efforts to cover his tracks. Unfortunately, so far he had come up empty handed. There was one peculiar room though, and he was certain that it had to be where this knife was.

While most of the rooms with windows were shuttered in darkness, with heavy fabric for curtains blocking most light, there was one which was not. Thanks to enormous glass windows, and not a curtain in sight, the space was bright and warm. He was rarely in there, but Rumplestiltskin typically spent at least a couple hours each day holed away there. It was mostly empty, apart from what looked like a few keepsakes lovingly displayed. He only saw the inside at all because he was charged with keeping them dust-free. There was a leather ball, a few carved toys, and a drawer of folded clothes fit for an adolescent boy. Shabby compared to Rumplestiltskin's wardrobe. The whole place seemed a tribute - whether it was to a lost child or the imp's own lost humanity or boyhood he didn't know. But he suspected the former, as they way they almost created a shrine reminded him very much of what he'd done with his own wife's possessions after she'd passed. The miller had taken to thinking of it simply as the 'sun room'. There were also two items that seemed out of place with everything else: a full-length oval mirror and a potted plant - a beanstalk of all things to boot. Somehow it thrived but it never seemed to sprout beans. Now the trick would be how to get into the room, which was normally sealed, when the imp was away.

His opportunity came more quickly than he had been expecting. Just a week later, the beast summoned the miller to the room he thought of as the shrine. He did his best to give nothing away, but he was certain the imp could hear his heart as it tried to pound its way out of his chest. He bowed his head when he arrived in presence of the Dark One. "How may I assist you, my lord?"

"Well, as long as you've got your eyes on the floor, tell me what you see," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "What do you see?"

The miller swallowed nervously. "Uh... wood, sir?"

"Well, of course you do, you dolt! Look harder!"

He examined the hardwood. It was a gorgeous deep red-hued type of would he couldn't identify. Although not damaged, it was certainly scuffed and much of the sheen one would expect was gone. "It needs a wax, sir," he replied hesitantly.

Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Good boy, Rex!" He'd taken to calling the miller by the popular dog's name, and mockingly talking to him in the same manner, after he'd overheard the man whimpering in his sleep. "Yes, and I require you remedy it."

"Right away, sir," replied the miller and he began to back out of the room.

"Hold it! Stay," ordered the imp. "I don't want you to do it right _now_. I'm using the room, am I not?"

"Could you not simply magic it back into an acceptable condition, if you are to have it done while you are in the manor?" the miller asked, immediately regretting letting his nerves get to him.

"Magic it away? '_Magic-it-away_'?" the imp repeated in a nasally mocking tone. "Perhaps I need to magic away your ears - you're clearly not using them! Have I or have I not explained before that all magic comes with a price?"

"Yes, my lord," the miller answered quietly.

"So, why would I magic it away when I have _you_? Do you wish me to risk such a thing over a floor?!" he growled.

"No, sir."

"And _that's_ why!" he shouted. "Now," he went on, utterly calm. "I will be away on business for two days and one night. I should be able to see myself in these floors by the time I return. Are we clear, Rex?"

"Crystal clear, sir."

"Be gone, then," Rumplestiltskin waved him off nonchalantly. A cheshire smile slowly spread across his face as he heard the miller beat a hasty retreat. The trap was set.

It took Cora's father everything he had not to let a spring into his step for the rest of the day. This _could_ be his _only _shot, but it was a good one, and he intended to make the most of it.

* * *

_"You knew what he was planning," noted Emma. She wasn't surprised. He was the one being in this ridiculous anti- Mayberry of a town to always be a step ahead of the mayor._

_Mr. Gold shook his head. "No. Not exactly, anyway. And it was the last time I underestimated her or anyone of her family. With all my magic, I'd forgotten the power of unlimited wealth and what it can buy you. Not just information and weapons, but men's hearts as well. A poor and desperate enough man will sacrifice his life for the guarantee that those he loves shall live comfortably for the rest of their days. The same man will act as the most loyal eyes, ears, and muscle for merely keeping his family fed. Even the most overworked oxen comes to be grateful to his master, when he is granted the kindness of food and rest. This was the lesson Cora and her father reminded me of. It had been a literal lifetime since I'd been a father in poverty - I'd forgotten. Had I simply made her father a better offer in exchange for information, convincing him it would help his daughter, then we likely wouldn't be sitting here - and you, my dear Miss Swan, would almost certainly not exist."_

_Emma bristled at how little he cared for her very existence, not that she would have expected more had she been simply asked to guess his feelings on the matter, but having it rubbed in your face was something else altogether. "Guess I owe my existence to Cora as much as Regina then," she replied flatly._

_"I prefer to think of it as an unexpected and **unintended **kindness," said Regina. "I know she never wanted me - the person I am, not her idea of a proper daughter - no more than her setting me up to save Snow intended to bring you into the world." She offered the blonde a sad smirk and shrug. "No offense."_

_"Um," began Emma, finding herself once again tongue-tied at Regina Mills offering her a guileless apology - for something as small as even possibly wounding her feelings. "None taken." She looked back at the image of Regina's grandfather and was truly thankful, for her son's sake, that the woman seemed to have taken after the men in her family more than her mother. Whatever else she had to say about the woman, she **did** want to be a mother and did her best. It was just a shame her role models were the proverbial heartless tin man and the cowardly lion. _

_"I gave him access that day in order for him to discover that I was using the mirror to spy on them. I knew that it would send the already edgy Cora into a truly paranoid state, likely ending in her acting before she was properly prepared, and allowing for a tragic end to properly motivate her for vengeance. I wasn't aware that she had managed to track down the one woman still alive who knew my secret."_

"_And who was this woman, anyway?" asked Emma. "And since when do you leave loose ends?"_

"_She was the last friend my son had in this world after I took the Dark One's powers and scared the rest away," he replied pensively._

"_You - you're a father?!" Regina exclaimed incredulously, suddenly feeling like she should be glad she was only stuck with Cora and not Rumplestiltskin for a parent._

_Gold nodded. "I was. Still am, in the biological sense..." He cleared his throat. "In any case, I spared her life, despite not knowing what my son, Baelfire, had told her. I owed him that much after I failed him..."_

_"And why would you tell us this now? What's the game? I'm not fool enough to believe you'd tip your hand unless you have to," stated David. _

_"Lucky for you, our interests continue to align. Somehow, that puppet man the sheriff keeps as a pet knew about my dagger."_

_"So why didn't you simply kill him?" asked Snow. _

_"Because, there's only one person in this world who could have known of it. Which means August spoke with him at some point. But that's a conversation for later."_

* * *

Rumplestiltskin left later that afternoon in his typical fashion - simply ceasing to be there. It was unnerving under the best circumstances and downright ulcer-inducing when he was engaged in activities that could mean punishment by death, to know he could pop in at any time. After filling a few hours with other chores, the miller finally got up the gumption to search the room. He wasn't surprised that his initial search turned up nothing, so he went further, carefully pulling the backs off of furniture, and even going so far as to probe the stuffing of the leather kickball with a long sewing needle, searching for a metal obstruction. Hours later, frustrated and in need of a break, he decided to clean up in preparation for waxing the floor. This was when he noticed that the beanstalk seemed a touch wilted. He'd never had to water the thing before, so he supposed it magical, but he was coming to believe that Rumplestiltskin simply cared for the plant. _'Such a strange little monster,'_ he thought as he retrieved the water.

It was a fairly large plant for being indoors, standing twice as high as any of his old flax stalks, so the Miller had retrieved a large bucket of water, which, thanks to the weight, he overturned in an ungainly fashion, sloshing soil left and right. It was when the bucket was just light enough to turn easily upright that he saw it; a metallic gleam. The soil didn't look heavy in minerals, making it that much more strange. He paused for the briefest of seconds, considering the mess he was sure to make, but then dove in, carefully digging. It wasn't long before he'd uncovered an artfully crafted golden hilt. He cleared a little more soil away, careful to note the position the dagger was in for later. As he pulled it from the soil he was surprised to find the wavy blade completely untarnished, gleaming as if it had been forged that very day. There, etched into the silver blade was the name 'Rumpelstiltskin'. A strange sort of tingling, like one experiences when their limb isn't getting enough blood, radiated through his hand and up to his elbow. Except it wasn't as if the limb had fallen asleep - it was like it was more awake. Magic had done nothing but harm his family and he nearly dropped the blade right there. Still, he managed to keep his grip and carefully replace the dagger into its original position. This task done, he peered out the window. Dusk had somehow come and gone without notice, so he quickly made him way to the kicthen, nicked a little citrus fruit and penned an invisible message to his daughter from its juices.

Success! Item

found. He is

none the wiser.

Love always, Papa

He spent the rest of the night, and into the dawn, buffing the first layer of wax into that sun room's floor, but found his body couldn't be tired out, buzzing as he was from the knowledge that soon he would see his daughter - and granddaughter. He'd never felt anything like it really.

After a better night's sleep than he'd gotten since arriving, the miller finished the second coat just as it was time for the midday meal. As he sat eating the plate a plate of bread, cheeses, and cured meats, he realized that he would need to act as if nothing had changed. Any suspicious behavior could sink them in an instant, and the last thing he wanted was to have his daughter arrive to rescue him - and he was sure she would be there, young mother or not - and find his bloated corpse strung up at the entry gates. The problem with trying to act normally was that it was like trying to blink normally when you actually thought about it. Finally, he settled on caution, as he'd rather risk seeming unusually miserable than better in spirits when the imp returned. He returned to the sun room to check on the floor. It had dried, but that was when he realized the dusty mess the project had made of the rest of the room. He sighed, but pulled out a dusting rag and got to work, starting with the mirror.

As he polished the glass he was mystified as it seemed to almost shimmer with his buffing. He made a long swipe, top to bottom, and the entire surface rippled like a pond on a windy day - but instead of simply distorting his reflection he was shocked to see his daughter, in her bedroom, hunched over her writing desk. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the call of a nightingale - which was when he realized wherever or whenever this image of his girl was coming from, it was already dark there. He realized the sound was coming from the magical reflection, as he saw one of the small brown birds land on her desk. She looked up and quickly unburdened the bird of his load.

He couldn't help but smile at the look of joy that lit his daughter's face as she held it to the candlelight and words appeared; though he couldn't read it from his viewpoint, he was certain she was reading his last message. "Henry!" Cora cried. "Come, quickly!"

The young duke quickly appeared, a small bundle held in the crook of one of his stocky arms. He leaned over her shoulder, quickly reading the message. "That's wonderful!" he replied with a smile, but his face was quickly clouded with concern. "So, it's to battle then? For all of us?" He gently rearranged the bundle of clothes in his arms and suddenly the miller saw it for what it really was - his granddaughter. He had to stop himself from pressing his nose to the glass as he tried to get a better look, and the voices of his daughter and her husband were drowned out, for his ears, in favor of the quiet gurgling of their baby. Henry bounced the infant and her eyes glistened in the candlelight - he would know those eyes anywhere. They were just like his beloved wife's and his heart felt like it would burst at the sight. He impatiently pushed the tears from his own eyes as they obscured his vision, and cursed Henry for not stepping closer to the mirror - to Cora's vanity table, he realized was where the view was coming from.

The mirror.

A sudden cold slashed his stomach and he fell to his knees as he realized what this meant - why that imp spent hours alone in here. He was watching them. He knew everything - he had to! His world came shattering down around him, all hope forgotten. How could they have ever hoped to outwit the Dark One and his magic? His heart ached for his Cora - always too sure of her own cleverness. He shouldn't have let her delude herself; that was his job as her father. But he had _so_ wished it to be true. He looked back up, hoping to get another look at the infant as he was sure he would never get another chance to.

Henry held the baby up, smiling as she giggled, his tone deadly serious despite the goofy faces he was making. "I still don't know about bringing Regina... she could be hurt, or stolen!"

"Rumpelstiltskin will never open the gates if we don't bring our daughter along. Why in the heavens would he believe we wanted to exchange her for my father if she wasn't with us? It's bad enough we're travelling to him instead of summoning him."

Henry sighed. "I know... I just... it doesn't feel right."

"None of this does," replied Cora tiredly, joining Henry's side. She ran her thumb down the bridge of little Regina's nose, giving her lips a little tap at the end of the journey. "She looks more like you every day," she remarked, resting her forehead against her baby's.

Cora's father hobbled on his knees, inching closer to the image of the family he should have been with and placed one hand on his daughter's image, the other on his granddaughter. Regina - that was his granddaughter's name, and he silently thanked Henry for giving him the gift of that knowledge. "Regina," he let it break softly on his lips and smiled sadly. Didn't she see her mother in the girl? The hair, the eyes. Had she lost so much of her memory of the woman that she couldn't see it, or was that simply the way of memory? A person, no matter how close, forever seen with the eyes of a child?

He let his hands slip from the glass as Cora turned away, blocking his view of her face, or that of Regina. But her voice was still clear. "We can be ready to travel by tomorrow evening. Sooner if the rains let up. Inform Josie as well."

"Why would we need a nursemaid? There will be just the few of us, and no planning to do from the carriage," said Henry. "We don't know how this will end - surely you want to spend as much time with your daughter as possible."

Cora nodded tiredly. "Of course I do," she replied, clearly short of temper when it came to that subject. "But we must be convincing down to the last detail. We will offer her services to the imp, as a show of love for our daughter. And we will take care of the payments to her family, on the condition she is allowed to leave when Regina is weaned."

"But she's just a girl - barely 19! She wouldn't be here at all if she hadn't lost her own child!" replied Henry in horror.

Cora sighed impatiently. "And we're not young? We're not actually going to give him Josie - no more than Regina! Why, exactly would we? But she cannot know that. Just make sure she is informed of her options - and make her an offer of such opulence for her family that she cannot refuse." Henry shook his head. "Yes, yes, I know - 'you don't like it, it's not honorable, what if Regina were to lose us both," snapped Cora in a mocking tone. "You're beginning to sound like a parrot. A poorly trained parrot to boot."

"Yes, my dear," Henry replied quietly, taking Regina with him.

Cora's father studied his daughter - she was gaunter and looked a decade older already. He hoped it was the light, but knew the truth. She was working herself ragged, and clearly not even enjoying what motherhood should be. He needed to get out of here and set his sparrow back on the right path. He wouldn't have his two best girls suffer for his sake. He would see them soon, and then - his breath hitched in his throat. Soon - too soon! She would leave the next night and knew nothing of the mirror - that Rumplestiltskin surely knew of her plans, for this couldn't have been the first time they had discussed it. He thought back to his last night with his daughter and all the scheming and plotting - all of that done in by a single enchantment done in that room. The tales were all true.

* * *

_As she watched this, Snow felt her hackles raise. Three, four generations Rumpelstiltskin had destroyed, all while betting he could ruin someone's heart so completely that they would destroy want to **everyone's** happiness in the end. Regina was to be the Savior, she realized, but something Cora had done destroyed that, shifting his plans another generation down the line. Worse yet, for all they'd been through, she and Charming were lucky enough to be given the happy ending, guided to their true love, at the cost of another person's happiness. She couldn't help but wonder whose family he'd originally brought together to act as a nemesis for Cora. Her parents, perhaps? Her mother **had** met her father under strange, magical, circumstances. And they would be about the right age at that point in time... She shuddered._

* * *

He knew not to what ends the imp had placed it, but the miller knew a trap when he saw one. He had to warn his Cora. The message had to get there before she left home. He sprang to his feet, tearing himself away from the vision of his family, and dashed for the kitchen to quickly scrawl a note.

He watches. No mirrors.

Don't come. Trap.

Patience, sparrow!

He bolted outside and pulled the bird whistle from the breast of his vest. It was overcast and gloomy, the bird's songs few and far between, but he had to believe any beasts that a group like Midas' Hands would train would be dependable. Their operations depended on it. His first few renditions of the call were hurried and sloppy, and no birds appeared. He forced himself to take a calming breath and focus. Panic would do good for no one but the dark imp. He closed his eyes, picturing the innocent babe he sought to protect - Cora's infant features mingled and swirled with Regina's in his minds eye and he was certain he had never played a mournful a rendition of the nightingale's song. The light flutter of wings next to his right ear soon broke him from his visions and he exhaled in palpable relief at the sight on his shoulder.

He quickly attached the note and gently released the bird into the air. He couldn't be sure it wasn't his imagination, but he could have sworn that bird had the most brilliant plumage he had ever seen on a nightingale. The deep russet brown of his daughter's eyes, the red of its tail brighter than that of the crown of the most beautiful sparrow, and a belly whiter than the newest fallen snow. He clung to that image as he slunk back to the sun room, taking in what he could of his family before Rumplestiltskin returned, knowing it would be unlikely he would see them again.

* * *

**A/N: **Intermission! Scene continues in the next chapter. I'm afraid this was the only decent spot to split the chapter.


	13. Promises Broken II

**Last time: **_He couldn't be sure it wasn't his imagination, but he could have sworn that bird had the most brilliant plumage he had ever seen on a nightingale. The deep russet brown of his daughter's eyes, the red of its tail brighter than that of the crown of the most beautiful sparrow, and a belly whiter than the newest fallen snow. He clung to that image as he slunk back to the sun room, taking in what he could of his family before Rumplestiltskin returned, knowing it would be unlikely he would see them again._

* * *

**Chapter 13: Promises Broken II**

He still clung to the image as he lay in bed that night, willing the bird to fly faster and beat his daughter to her departure. And he clung to that image the next night, after having snuck back into the sun room, which the imp had so carelessly left unlocked and saw that his daughter had left, as the furniture was draped in white linen to keep the dust off while they were away. She was gone, carrying her family into a deadly trap he could only guess the details of. The miller was not a stupid man, nor a fool, and realized on the second day that the door had been left unlocked on purpose. Rumpelstiltskin was taunting him. He took comfort in the knowledge that he didn't seem aware he'd found the dagger - or he was even aware of the imp's dagger existing.

The third day, the mirror's view had shifted from his daughter's empty bedroom to a rather chaotic view from what he eventually believed to be the silver clasp on his son-in-laws's reflective surface need not be a mirror it seemed, simply something the imp had enchanted. He would have walked around constantly enraged if the fire in his heart hadn't been extinguished by the sight of his granddaughter. Instead, he felt like so much charred parchment, left soggy and useless after being doused in water, and it only got worse as his family got closer. Six days had passed when he was surprised to be visited during his nightly birdcalls. He had assumed there would be no more messages, and the hour or two a day he rode along in their carriage was rarely informative. His mouth went dry as the message appeared.

Less than a day's ride.

On the morrow.

Prepare and take

the name to your pockets.

He who has it controls the beast.

He singed his fingers as he stared at the note curling into ash, too distracted to drop it in time. "Damnit!" He blew on his fingers, hoping the burn would not be so obvious as to raise Rumplestiltskin's curiosity. The last thing he needed was to make the dark imp suspicious in this late hour. He bit his tongue in lieu of cringing as he pushed the lever that let him back inside, and tried to push the pain from him mind. Evening tea still had to be served. He would have time to think on it when he retired for the night.

As he filled Rumplestiltskin's cup, he focused on the task, doing his best not be be lost in his own thoughts, and was glad he did so, for he didn't jump when the front bell, indicating a visitor, rang. Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but it seemed forced, and the miller was certain he knew why. "Well? Answer it! I know I don't get many visitors, but surely you've opened a door before, Rex. Even barns have doors..." he shooed him away and the miller tried to not walk too eagerly. In truth, he didn't want his daughter there yet, he wasn't ready. He was relieved when it was just a young boy, a hired messenger. The lad offered him a deep bow and wouldn't look him in the knees, let alone the eyes. "I'm not the Dark One boy, you needn't fear me," he reassured him quietly. "Please, just give me the message before the actual Dark One punishes me for your taking so long!" he hissed. Finally, the boy rose, cautiously daring to look the miller in the face. He wasn't sure what the boy was expecting to see, but he certainly wasn't it and the lad nearly collapsed in relief.

The miller examined the note in his hands, and upon seeing the Alysian house crest stamped into the wax seal, he smiled. "Please, tell the Lady Cora exactly these words: Turn back. Watchers watch. The skies are dark and the winds are strong," he whispered. "Thank you young man, now off with you," he dismissed the boy in a normal tone. He reset his mask of servitude and returned to the imp, placing the message in front of him.

"Good boy, Rex. I see you even resisted the urge to peek. I do hope you sent my best wishes along with yours when you spoke to Cora's messenger." The miller couldn't help the color draining from his face but the imp simply giggled. "Calm yourself. There's nothing you could offer in this late hour to undo your family's fate. Besides, how can I begrudge a father his love? Quite brave of you to try and plot right under my nose..."

"Bravery costs lives. It rarely saves them," mumbled the miller, eyes locked on the floor. He could only hope his message would get to her in time.

"And wise to boot!" replied the imp. "I should think we would have been good friends, had we lived in the same village. Not wise enough for me now, though... secret messages? Whispered dealings with messenger boys..."

"I - I know not to what you are referring sir."

"Don't lie to me!" the imp raged. "Don't you dare! Now sit, Rex," he commanded and the miller jumped to obey. "Good. Let's see what the dear family are up to, shall we? I do love correspondance, don't you? Exciting!" He sliced the long, claw-like nail of his pinky finger through the wax seal and unfolded the parchment, scanning it quickly. "Well, it seems your daughter has tired of her little bundle of joy and wishes to trade her for you." A sly grin slithered over the imp's face and he leaned toward the miller. "But we both know that even if _she_ wanted to, Duke Henry is a soft touch. He would never give up his precious little Regina, would he?" he leered at the man.

The miller shook his head. "No sir. And neither would my daughter," he replied.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Thank you for not insulting my intelligence, as Cora has. We both know the game being played. Still, using a baby as a pawn? This can't be your proudest moment with your girl." The miller staunchly kept silent. "Ah, good father. You, I respect! Now, clean up this mess and get to bed. We both have big days ahead of us!"

He nodded. "Yes, sir." His heart sank as he brushed up a few grains of spilled sugar and sighed. He didn't know how, but he had to get that dagger. He was certain now that the imp couldn't know that he knew. The next morning arrived faster than he'd expected, despite being the longest night of his life; plagued by nightmares when he could sleep, which couldn't have been more than a few minutes scattered across the night. Looking at his reflection the next morning, he saw his haggard appearance; by dark circles under eyes spider-webbed by bright red veins, and the realization that he must have been rubbing his fingers together all night as his minor burn was worse upon sunrise than when he'd laid down for the night.

"Do you know what I'm going to do with your family, Rex?" Rumplestiltskin asked the next morning over his breakfast of toast, tea, and poached quail eggs.

"No sir," the miller replied honestly, and his stomach twisted.

"Well... I hope you enjoy surprises, then," he replied and giggled to himself.

"Now, clean up this mess and bring me a fresh tea in the mirror room. Also, I'm feeling generous today. How about you join me in watching their approach?" Rumplestiltskin asked, as if they were to be taking in a concert - not watching his daughter fall into a trap.

And so they sat, in silence, waiting for the action to start, the miller refilling and rebrewing tea as he realized how large a part of the Dark One's games was simply observing. But his heart began to race and he heard the muted voices emerge from the mirror minutes before any images appeared. He couldn't tell what she was saying, but he knew it was his daughter's voice, and the dread rose in his throat. One word in the mumbling he understood - "alone."

The miller felt as if the bottom of the world had fallen out from under him and his stomach twisted into knots. She was still planning to come. To come _alone_. Had Henry any honor? Letting his wife, with daughter in hand, face the most powerful force of evil on her own?

Noticing the miller's utter stillness, Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and the image in the mirror changed to that of a sun dappled forest. "Wondering about the message you sent, I presume?" Just then, the boy from yesterday scurried into view, briskly making his way down the narrow path in a manner better befitting a frightened rabbit than a young man. And to the miller's shock, he suddenly was exactly that. A white hare, skittering through fallen leaves. The dark imp nodded, seemingly delighted by his newest creation.

"How...?" asked Henry.

"Oh, I've hung mirrored talismans all along the path to my home. I find it helps spot problems before they arise," replied Rumplestiltskin.

"No... how..." Henry mumbled.

"Oh, the bunny man there. I simply made his outside reflect his insides. It's not my fault he's less a runner and more a thumper. Or should that be hopper?" he mused before letting loose another disgusting cackle.

"But he was an innocent boy!" exclaimed the miller, leaping to his feet.

"Sit Rex," ordered the imp with a downward motion of his hand. The miller felt a force shove him back down into his seat. "And try not to forget your place."

Suddenly an arrow slammed through the torso of the former-messenger rabbit and his sterling white fur was stained with an ever-increasing crimson red patch. His long ears twitched frantically as he bled out, and a huntsman stepped into view. He regarded his kill with a little remorse, quickly breaking its neck to end its suffering. The ears fell limp. The man turned around, shouting to a party out of sight and held his kill aloft. "I've dinner for the Duke and Duchess!" The miller felt suddenly quesay.

"This was last night, after you burdened the boy with your message."

"How could you?!" the miller asked in a horrified whisper.

"Me?! _You _did this to him the moment you brought him into you and your family's little scheme," the imp exclaimed in a parody an indignant tone. "What are pawns for, if not to sacrifice? Don't blame me when you move them in reach of a rook."

"I never wanted to play," replied the miller.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Ah, yes. Well, nonetheless, you're a piece on the board. Why do you think I call you Rex?"

The miller shook his head, puzzled. "Because you're powerful in here," he tapped his heart, "but are only marginally more powerful than a pawn when it comes to everything else." Still a blank look from the miller, and the imp sighed in exasperation. "The king. You're the king on the board. Rex. Translates to king in Atlantean?" He threw up his hands. "Why do so few appreciate the art of punnery?"

Ultimately, it didn't matter to Rumplestiltskin if Cora or her baby baby lived or died. He only needed one of them. His only goal was to push her family into enacting the curse that would reunite him with his son. His spinning wheel visions were never absolute predictors of the future - events would always need to be nudged on to his preferred path - but he knew Cora, or her daughter, had the emotional capacity to sacrifice everything for their happiness, regardless of the cost, and he meant to exploit it. Henry, the duke with a poet's soul, and Cora's father alike, would give up his own happiness for those he loved, making either man an ideal sacrifice when the time came.

With an idle adjustment of position, the view from Henry's cloak clasp became crisply clear. "I won't let you take Regina into the lion's den without me," he declared.

"It's _my_ deal," Cora replied.

"And _our_ daughter," he shot back. He knew he would never convince his stubborn young wife through his authority alone; his beautiful, clever wife had wrapped him around his finger more securely than an Atreyan constrictor snake. But she would listen to sound logic. "And what is the Dark One to think if you offer our daughter without me? Do you think he would believe you would offer up our daughter without my support? Knowing I could hang you for high treason after the exchange and get the king to let loose an army on him?"

Cora sighed in frustrated acquiescence. "Fine. But you will let me do the talking. This deal is my mistake to correct." Henry nodded, hiding the unbidden satisfied smile on his lips behind his gloved hands.

The miller made sure his gaze landed anywhere except the potted beanstalk, even as he frantically tried to suss out a plan to steal the imp's dagger - the only hope of his daughter's plan succeeding.

Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and again the image shifted, now to one outside the carriage. The miller saw the wheels of the vehicle roll over the dried puddle of blood that had surely been where the rabbit-boy had been slain. "Oooh! Looks like they're close now. Are you ready for your heartfelt reunion?" Cora's father nodded slowly. "Well, too bad. You shall stay here while I handle your daughter," he replied sternly. "You leave this room without my consent, _they_ die. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the miller replied, but obeying that order was the last thing on his mind. The dark imp lept up and sauntered towards the front door of his abode. The miller could tell he was starting to sweat in anticipation, but thankfully, it fit the situation as Rumplestiltskin viewed it. "Now, Rex. Sit. Stay. Watch." After the imp had left for the front door, the miller was relieved to see that Rumpelstiltskin had left the mirror active. It had shifted to a view of the foyer, no doubt meant as a cruel window he was meant to watch his daughter's death through, but actually served to let Cora's father watch and time his actions perfectly.

Nonetheless, he found himself frozen when Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and he saw his daughter standing there, baby in her arms, Henry by her side, his hand awkwardly resting on the sword at his hip. They were just down the hall and it killed him. The dark imp held his hands clutched behind his back. "Please, come in. May I offer you something to drink after your long journey?"

"Where's my father?" demanded Cora.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Aren't royals supposed to have impeccable manners?" he asked, but then thrust his right index finger aloft. "Ah! But your blood is as common as it comes, isn't it? One failed harvest away from vagabond thievery. You only look the part of a duchess," he sneered. "Don't you two rush to thank me or anything."

The miller's heart raced as he found his breath again and he darted over to the potted beanstalk. He began to dig, throwing handfuls out dirt out, while frantically checking glancing back at the mirror to make sure they weren't coming. Suddenly, he stubbed his finger against hard metal, sending a sting up his hand as the nerves in his fingertip were crushed. He grit his teeth and pushed forward through the pain as he pulled the dagger out from the damp soil. He turned around, fixing all his attention back onto the mirror.

"No deal until you make him appear. How can I even be certain he's okay?" asked Cora.

"And _I_ gave you my word. So _sign_," he growled back and a scroll of parchment appeared in his hand. Cora stared at him with hard eyes, and Henry seemed to have stopped breathing. "Both of you, if you will - can't have daddy disputing my claim to his daughter now, can we?"

Finally, she handed Regina off to Henry and took a quill from the imp. Having been imprisoned in this household for so much time, he knew every room as well as he'd ever known the landscape of his farm. If he was judging correctly, Rumplestiltskin's back was to the hall that led from that room to the sun room. Seeing his chance, fleeting though it was, the miller quickly pulled his boots off and padded silently down the hall as quickly as he could. When he arrived he saw that the imp had crouched over, his back straight, and the contract down it. Cora stood behind him, her back also to the miller, the quill in her hand as she read the new conditions. He was sure she was buying time for him to act. The long plumage of the quill danced on the air, amplifying the minute trembling of Cora's hand - she was scared, despite her calm demeanor. Anger and fear simmering in his own gut, making him queasy at the treatment of his daughter and his failure to protect her from it. But what was he to do? How does one wield the dagger? As his daughter bent over to sign, he decided to simply let instinct guide him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle even tighter.

Suddenly, Rumplestiltskin stood straight up, his nostrils flared and gave three exaggerated sniff. Cora leapt backwards at the sudden movement. His enormous pupils were nearly impossible to see, he had narrowed his eyelids so tight. "Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a Miller's son... be he too dumb to do as I said... I'll grind his _whole _family to make my bread!" He spun around dramatically. "And _what _do you think you're doing?" he sneered.

Cora and Henry followed the imp's venomous gaze and saw the miller, a knife clutched in one hand, the other a fist. "You will do nothing to my family," he said through clenched teeth.

"Father!" Cora exclaimed. "Is that it?" she asked, nodding at the blade.

Rumplestiltskin stalked toward the miller, hands clutched behind his back and he circled the man as closely as he could. He'd never been subject to the thrall like Zoso had been, and had no idea what he could do under its spell. Surely, there had been some degree of independence, or else Zoso wouldn't have been able to enact his plan to commit suicide by Rumplestiltskin's hand. He felt what could only be described as a leash between himself and the miller, like a ribbon of energy that crackled every time he attempted to sever the connection. He snarled, teeth bared at the shock.

"What's the matter, imp?" taunted Cora, but Rumplestiltskin kept his eyes locked on the dagger. "Give us back our contract. Null and void," she demanded.

"I'm not _your_ lapdog, wench!" the imp snapped in return.

"Right. You're mine," the miller growled in return. "And no one threatens my family! Now, on your knees."

Rumplestiltskin felt his magic surge, a compulsion to obey the thrall, and when he resisted, he was rewarded by another shock to every nerve in his body for the effort. He wondered if his situation was like that of a genie - the ability to follow a wish to the letter, but fulfil it in a way that would punish the wisher. Or in this case, his master. He wanted to spit when he realized the label of master had supplanted... _something_ as the miller's name in his mind, to such an extent that he couldn't even remember what he'd called the man just minutes before. This thought broke his concentration and he felt himself kneel.

"Good boy," the miller said. "Give me the contract," he ordered.

Feeling the thrall's tug again, to transport the contract magically into his master's hands, he willed himself to push through the crackling pain. He was breathing heavily and sweating when he felt got a quiet "No" from his lips. He would have grinned if he wasn't still battling the thrall.

"I thought he was enslaved by that dagger!" exclaimed Henry.

"I - I don't know," replied Cora frantically. "He should have to follow whomever possesses the dagger!"

That was when it clicked for Rumplestiltskin. He flashed back to the night he'd stolen the dagger for himself. It was locked away, not in anyone's hand or on their person, yet controlled the Dark One. If it didn't Zoso could have broken in and stolen it at any time. The miller had the dagger, but they were still in Rumplestiltskin's home. The thrall was split between the two owners of the blade, giving the imp some free will. His face grew into a nasty grin as he realized he wasn't beaten yet.

"What do you know, imp?" demanded Cora.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he sing-songed and felt an immediate tug from the thrall even before the miller spoke.

"She would. Answer her question, imp," said the miller, pointing the blade at the Dark One. The tug got stronger, but Rumplestiltskin was able to hold it off longer this time. Still, he realized that he could never win in a battle of wills alone - his master wasn't subject to any kind of internal magical battle and would win every time, eventually.

"The thrall is split. As long as you're on my land, that blade is half mine - as is my will," replied the imp. "And you've no idea how far my property stretches. I will only get better at resisting with every order. How confident are you that I won't turn on you like a rabid dog before you cross its boundaries?" He didn't actually know if his land would count, or it needed to be in his home, but they wouldn't know that unless they asked.

"Give me the contract," said the miller. Rumplestiltskin handed over the contract without a fight. It was useless now anyway.

She eyed the leashed beast. He had a point - and the longer she kept him on that leash, the angrier he would become. Of that she had no doubt. '_Lesson 9: Always speak politely to an enraged dragon.' _"Perhaps we, as civilized folk, can draw up a new contract? One where we both win - you live and keep your dagger and you swear to not hurt my family ever again," said Cora. "It's the only way we both come out of this unscathed!"

"No!" Henry exclaimed. "No more deals! He'll find a way." He swallowed hard. He'd never ordered an execution, let alone killed anyone, before. "We must end this. For the good of everyone in this world."

"And how do you propose to do that?" snarled the imp. "I have enough control to fight for my own life - of that, I am certain. So, do you fancy fighting me across the miles of forest, risking your daughter's life? A fair bargain on the other hand and we all walk away happy.

"He's right," said Cora.

"Cora," Henry pleaded.

"Have you an idea as to how to kill him?" snapped Cora. Henry stepped back, shaking his head. "I thought not."

The miller, meanwhile, attempted to rip up the contract, but found it couldn't tear. He then took the dagger to parchment, but again, it was left unscathed. "What is this?!" he asked angrily.

Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but smile smugly. "My deals are unbreakable, dearie."

"Destroy it," Cora's father commanded, holding up the contract.

This was an thrall-induced impulse Rumplestiltskin was all too happy to satisfy - well, with his own twist. The parchment burst into white-hot flame, sending a ball of fire into the miller's face, up his sleeve, and greatly enhancing the burn he'd received just days earlier. The miller instinctively threw himself back, flinging the dagger from his hand, sending it skittering across the stone floor. Henry turned away from the flames, shielding Regina as Cora's vision cleared from the blast. She dove after the blade, but Rumplestiltskin was faster. Free of all binds, he pulled the knife through the air towards himself, Cora's hand barely touching the blade, but it still slit the palm of her hand like a razor. It was merely a flesh wound, but enough to draw a steady oozing of blood.

Time seemed to move slower than the grass grows for the miller and his eyes widened as he saw the dagger flying towards the imp. He dove in an attempt to intercept - and that he did, but not in the way he intended. The undulated edges of the blade slammed into his chest, through muscle and bone, to land squarely in his heart, and time sped back up to normal again. He landed in a heap, his tunic already soaked with blood. What was left of his heart pumped new, bright crimson blood out of his chest in rhythmic spurts; blood thumped in his ears, drowning out everything except Cora's cry of horror.

"Noooo!" she screamed, legs nearly collapsing under her.

"Oh, yes!" Rumplestiltskin replied eerily cheerful. "It seems your father made his choice for you - I won't be needing your daughter after all."

* * *

_Snow shuddered at the scene and she nearly crushed Charming's hand in her grip as she flashed back to her husband lying lifeless on the floor, suffering a similar wound. As much as she despised Cora, she could take no pleasure in this scene. She felt David pull her a little closer._

_Emma stared, transfixed. She too was brought back to the moments of her flashback, and her father collapsing on the cobblestones of her nursery. As a flash of images, the scene's true horror hadn't really hit her, but watching this, the man's face turning ashen white as his lifeblood drained out onto the floor... She felt sick. "My God..." she said quietly._

_Regina blinked back tears. This was what her mother had meant every time she'd said her daughter wasn't worth the price. She couldn't say she could disagree as she watched the grandfather who'd never met her lose his life to keep her safe. But other images flashed, Snow, looking more disheveled than Regina had seen anyone. She wore the same long ebony hair Regina had expected the princess to sport as an adult, and she was dressed only in a white nightgown. David in her arms, unconscious. A pool of blood. Snow weeping - but then her eyes lighting up in almost childish hope and all Regina could see was that little girl she'd known, desperately kissing David, trying to bring him back. A voice, cold as ice but tipped with white hot rage. "This is **my** happy ending!" A bone-chilling cackle even louder than the tornado-like winds. "Love is weakness," said this evil woman's voice and Cora's as one. She could feel the dark power rising up in her again, tempting her with the sweet promise of revenge. The temptation was unlike anything she'd felt, and she found herself wanting to take as much of it as she could - until she saw Daniel's corpse again. She gasped and snapped open eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed, only to be confronted by the image of her grandfather bleeding out. This was what dark magic did. She felt sick._

* * *

A little nonplussed, Rumplestiltskin bent over to collect the dagger, but stumbled as he felt a kick to his hips. He stumbled a few steps back, and then spun to find Henry, sword drawn. "You just made your last mistake, dearie," he growled. He flung a hand in Cora's direction, slamming her into a tapestry hanging on the wall. A twist of his fingers and the thick fabric twisted itself around the woman and dropped onto the floor. Cora blinked, clearly dazed.

He turned back to Henry and Regina, easily knocking the other man's sword from his hands. He held a hand aloft, pinning Henry to the wall and sneered. "Think you can outfight me boy?" He locked his eyes onto the baby in the man's arms. He held up his pinky finger, brandishing the long, sharp nail like a blade. "I can kill your child while she's still in your arms." With that, he swiped at Regina's small, pink mouth, slitting the right side of her upper lip, reaching about an inch long. Regina began to wail, her face flushed red in infantile terror.

"You demon spawn!" cried Cora as Henry struggled with all his might against the imp's powers. "What kind of coward harms a baby?!"

Rumplestiltskin spun around. "What did you just call me?" he growled.

Cora, having finally loosed the small blade concealed in her bodice, slit the tapestry imprisoning her, pulling herself out.

"She called you a coward!" the miller replied, his voice burbling with blood flooding his throat. He had his hands gripped tightly around the dagger in his chest and tugged with all his might. "You will not hurt my family!" he commanded, and the imp felt the thrall restrain him. As he fought against those magical bonds, the miller finally pulled the blade free. He could feel the life draining from him. He knew he was going to die. "Remember your promise to me, my sparrow," he told Cora as she struggled pull herself free. The miller narrowed his eyes, fighting the darkness threatening to swallow his vision._ 'It's just like darts,'_ he told himself. _'Just bigger. And no one can best you at darts.'_ He pulled himself into a sitting position and tried to grip the blade properly, but found his burned hand unable to hold a grip. He took the blade into his off hand and drew his arm back as he took aim, hoping his aim would stay true. "You won't hurt my family!" He let the dagger fly with all his might, which was far less than he'd hoped, and watching as the blade soared straight at the imp.

At the same moment, Henry stepped forward as best he could, using his second step to land his boot into Rumplestiltskin's back. As his foot flew forward, he realized he'd misjudged the distance, and landed with only enough force to make the imp twist and stumble. Henry rolled to the floor, concentrating on not landing on his daughter, or dropping her.

Cora's father's vision swam, but he saw the dagger land soundly in the Dark One's chest, lodging itself in his ribcage, but disappointingly, the wrong side, opposite the heart. _'Not darts. Dartboards don't move,'_ he mused to himself and let loose a sputtering laugh, coughing blood-speckled spittle in a spray. Another detached part of him realized he'd broken from reality now, his blood-deprived brain going giddy, and his vision went black.

Rumpelstiltskin was barely aware of the lioness roar from Cora through the shooting pain of every breath. But before he could inhale a third time he was slammed to the ground, his breath knocked out of him, and he began to fumble with blood-slicked hands at the blade in his chest. Cora's weight pressed painfully down on him, crushing his lungs further, but he could still see the girl hovering over him through the black spots clouding his vision. Her face twisted in pure fury as she slapped his hands away to grab the dagger herself.

Cora had never understood what a bloodrage was until that moment. Her mind was a haze of pure, unadulterated hate like she'd never experienced and her only wish at that moment was to inflict the greatest amount of pain possible. She gripped the blade's handle as best she could and gave it a vicious twist, feeling oddly satisfied by the sound of cracking ribs, the imp's screams a beautiful symphony to her ears; her daughter's terrified wailing a salve, energizing her lust for vengeance. Another energy flowed into the blade, draining the life of the imp. She knew the Dark One's true power now, and when she looked into Rumplestiltskin's eyes she saw more fear than spite; she was a truer vessel than he for that power in that moment and it thrilled her. She was too far gone to reflect that that thought should scared her, and instead, she gave him a triumphant sneer. The clarity of the feeling only lasted a moment though, before noticed the imp's eyes lock onto the blade. When she followed his gaze down, she saw his blood mingle with hers in her wound, bubbling and frothing along the slice in her hand, and a sickness seems to seep through her skin, spreading from the cut.

Rumpelstiltskin watched in detached fascination now that Cora had frozen stiff - clearly horrified as she watched her skin turn a gangrenous green, speckled just like his own, and the name on the blade began to warp, morphing, as if the letters were locked in battle. It seemed to reach a stalemate, and read _'Corastiltskin'._ Rumplestiltskin felt the power draining from him and the small spark of light left in his soul rejoiced at its freedom. He watched her pull the blade from his flesh and felt the power drain from him, making him feel weak in a way he hadn't for a century. But then his son's voice echoed in his head, _'You promised, you coward!'_ and all thoughts of letting go left his mind before they'd even fully formed.

Cora pulled the dagger from the imp's chest and stumbled backward onto her haunches. _'He cursed the blade! He cursed it and tricked Papa!' _screamedher inner voice and she flipped herself around to check on her father. Dagger still in hand, she scrambled across the floor to her him. He looked small and empty and for the second time in her life, she tugged on a parent's hands, willing them to awaken. As Rumplestiltskin tried to pull himself to his feet, her head snapped around. "You did this! You fix this or so help me I'll make you wish you were dead!"

Rumplestiltskin struggled to stand and he realized a non-magical being would likely be unconscious by now, if not dead, and he grasped at whatever magic he had left to mend his wounds. "All magic has its limits," he snarled.

She could feel the dark change creeping up her neck now. "What's happening to me? What curse did you cast on this dagger?!" She could feel all good sense slipping as she panicked. She couldn't die before she saved her father.

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes at her. "What? Your spies didn't tell you what happens when you kill me with that?"

Cora shook her head frantically, letting out a frustrated scream, her thoughts scattered and frantic as she felt another force seeping into her mind. "Enough games! Heal him!" she screamed back.

"I can't heal the dead! No one can!" he shouted in return. "You made your bed, now you're going to die by it!"

"Obey me!" she roared, pointing the dagger at him, trying to will him to obey the thrall. Instead, a blast of crackling blue thunder exploded from her hands, narrowly missing the imp, and she dropped the blade in surprise.

Finally on his feet, Rumplestiltskin readied himself to dive for the blade, but was surprised when an invisible force slammed him into a wall. He looked up to see Cora, her hands held out, pinning him with magic. The woman's eyes were alight with rage, and that's when he noticed that the baby's cries had stopped. He struggled to move his head, but was finally able to see that Henry and Regina were pinned in a similar manner, the infant turning blue as she was crushed. He realized this was his best shot and managed to choke out one sentence with what air was left in his lungs. "Don't think... babies are meant.. to be.. that color."

Cora looked puzzled and then horrified as she realized Rumplestiltskin wasn't the only one suffering her wrath, and her concentration shattered like so much glass. The moment he was free he used his magic to pull the dagger to his hand like a magnet and felt his power surge back with it in his hands. Cora dashed over to her baby as Henry held Regina protectively. Just as she was about touch her child, Regina vanished, only to appear in the imp's arms. Cora hesitated, as he had anticipated she would. She was a newborn in the world of magic - the most dangerous kind of magic user. Like a child playing with matches. He held the blade at the child's throat.

"You harm another hair on her head and you'll have the entire kingdom after you!" Henry warned, his voice shaking.

"A word of advice, your _majestys. _Power has limits. Loss has none." With that, he disappeared in a swirl of dark green smoke, revealing a wailing Regina on the ground when it cleared.

"Oh, thank the gods!" cried Henry and he and Cora dashed over to pick her up, careful not to slip on the floor that looked more like it belonged to a slaughterhouse than an elegant manor home. Both parents were weeping now as they checked for any harm, aside from the sliced lip, and were relieved to find none. As the baby calmed, Cora's attention was back on the lifeless heap that had been her father just minutes before, and Cora collapsed over him, sobbing as she clutched at his body. Henry kneeled behind her, rubbing her back with his free hand. Eventually, much longer than the fight that had killed him had taken, her tears slowed. "I paid for her life with his..."

"I'm certain he would sacrifice himself over again in an instant. It was his choice. I know I would."

"Then why didn't you?" she snapped. "What kind of father _are_ you?" Henry looked down, the shame clear on his face; he'd broken the first and most sacred of vows a man could ever make - to protect his family. His insides twisted as he regretted not doing more, his wife had saved them and it was a debt he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to pay back. Cora could plainly see Henry's inner turmoil and she was glad. She held her father's limp hand to her lips. "I broke my promise. I failed you..." she said quietly to him. Remembering his last words to her, she kissed his knuckles. "I won't fail you again, Papa... I will never break my promise to you, no matter the cost. I swear it. And I will destroy that imp if it's the last thing I do. This was steep a price," she remarked, looking at her daughter. Her eyes were dry now, though red and the skin around them puffy and swollen.

She stroked her daughter's downy brown hair and realized she was still bleeding. She held a trembling hand up to the wound, and was startled as she noticed they were still that awful mossy green. Did it mean she still had magic?

'_Lesson 1: Only he who justifies it every day, deserves power.' _

The torrent of magic she had felt before was significantly diminished, but she couldn't allow even one more drop of her family's blood to spill from her daughter. She concentrated on an image of Regina's lip mending itself and felt the sputtering of power flow through her hands. She was exhausted though, and realized that magic was fueled by the wielder's own inner strength and energy. She searched for every last scrap to use to flow into her daughter's wound, but she was still only able to last a few minutes. She gently pulled her hand away only to find a scar remained. _Lesson 37: A face can launch a thousand ships - be mindful that they're sailing for you and not away._ Would her daughter be permanently disfigured? How could she hope to land a husband from the nobility with a scarred face.

Henry swallowed hard. "Regina should be a Mills." He flinched as Cora gave him a look that dared him to continue. "What I mean is, to honor your father, I'd like her to carry your father's last name. I know it's not much, and certainly nothing can make up for your loss-"

"My loss _and _your daughter's loss," she snapped and turned her gaze back to her father's corpse. "But it's a start." She hung her head, and soon the sobbing was back, dry and silent; she was grateful Henry let her be. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. Yes, Regina should have been a Mills, in heart as well as name. It should be Henry crumpled at her feet - not her whole world. What kind of victory was this? She knew Henry was right when he said her father would do it again in a heartbeat - but his heart no longer beat. Love was supposed to be this all-powerful force, capable of defeating even the greatest evil. Well, proof of how wrong that was lay before her. Love wasn't powerful enough. _Power_ was power.

When Cora finally forced herself to let go of her father, the blood had long since cooled, and was sticky between her hands and her father's. His fingers were stiffening, only kept warm by her own hands. She was surprised when she stood and found a wooden bucket filled with soapy water next to her, along with some rags.

"I found it in the kitchen," Henry explained. He had clearly already cleaned himself and Regina; Cora wondered how long she'd let herself simply wallow in the blank, thoughtless sadness. She began by washing her hands, wishing the water were warmer in contrast to the cold air of the hall. To her surprise, it did in fact feel warmer in the next dip, but soon began to bubble into a rolling boil. She stepped back into a standing position, mystified, but it was then that she noticed why she felt like she wasn't getting clean. The tinge to her skin was still there on one arm - faded, but definitely there. If it weren't for the specks of gold, it could have been mistaken for particularly mossy dirt staining her skin. The slice along her palm from Rumplestiltskin's dagger looked black and gangrenous, with veins of dark green and gold branching out from the wound, twisting along the skin of her hand and up her arm, nearly to the crook of her elbow, clinging in a haphazard patterning like a black widow's web. She studied the back of her hand and quickly realized they followed the path of her actual veins, the dark color making them especially visible. She remembered the feeling of darkness creeping up her throat and felt her neck with her hands, as if she could tell by touch alone.

"It's gone from everywhere but your wounded arm," Henry quietly answered the unspoken question.

"What did he do to me?!" Cora uttered.

"We'll figure it out," replied Henry. "For now, may I suggest we get the men from the retinue to prepare your father for transport while we search the property for clues or items that may help?"

A pained look crossed Cora's face for a moment, but she quickly masked it and nodded. She regarded her daughter squirming in her father's arms and realized she couldn't feel a thing. It should have frightened her, but all she felt was numb. And whole. Like some missing piece of herself had been put into place that day.

Henry turned on his heel, grateful to have an excuse to leave the room and especially to get Regina out of this house of horrors. He heard the strangest laugh bubble from Cora's throat and it sent a chill down his spine.

As she watched him go, she fought the urge to look upon her father again. _'Papa wouldn't want me to remember him like that...' _she told herself. She heaved a sigh and went back to examining her corrupted flesh. She needed to figure out what he'd done to her, before this was permanent. Unless it already was... _'In which case, I don't own nearly enough pairs of elbow length gloves,' _she observed and couldn't help but chuckle aloud at the absurd thought. She was vaguely aware of the tinge of madness that colored her voice, the realization of which simply causing her to laugh longer and louder. She didn't feel poisoned. She felt powerful. Love wasn't power - _power_ was power.

_**New **Lesson 1: Love is weakness._

* * *

As the picture faded to black, the room was as silent as a tomb, each viewer feeling witness to the creation of something horrible. The group jumped as Emma rapped her knuckles on the plate of glass. "So, you get HBO on this thing too?" she asked Gold, in an effort to lighten the mood. The past was the past - it was rarely a good idea to dwell in it. The joke fell flat.

Mr. Gold looked up slowly, carefully avoiding Regina's gaze, finding Emma's the easiest to return. "I wasn't going to actually kill her you know. I don't hurt innocent children."

"Right. You just steal them for... _whatever_ the creepy shit you do is about," replied Emma flatly. He seemed repentant, but not nearly close enough to disgusted with himself for her satisfaction. She'd seen it on enough abusive parents. He still believed himself justified in one form or another.

"There are many more ways to hurt a child than by physically injuring them," added Snow, her tone dangerous and low.

"I am well aware that, your _Highness,"_ he replied in a low and dangerous voice. "And I plan to set right what I can, undo the wrongs." He glanced in Regina's direction, then back to Snow. "What would you have me do instead? Curl up on the floor and die?"

Snow cocked head to one side. "It's a thought..." she replied with a flippancy served up on the edge of a knife.

He pulled himself to his feet, straightening out his coat and tie. Finally, he forced himself to meet Regina's eyes, and his gaze was as controlled and cool her's was smoldering with anger and sadness at what he'd taken from her. Not just a grandfather, but the soul of her mother, and the will of her father to fight her. "Your parents raided my property, stole my mirror, various trinkets... even my beanstalk when they figured out that's where I'd hidden my dagger."

"Right... what's with that thing, anyway?" asked Emma.

"I was attempting to create a magic bean," Gold replied.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Like, as in 'Jack and the'?"

"Not precisely," Gold answered, his ire rising. "The Rheul Ghorm gave my son the last enchanted bean in existence, banishing him to _this_ world."

"He ran from you," surmised David flatly.

"No!" Gold practically bellowed. "I was supposed to follow him here. To a land without magic... where I could be free of the Dark One."

"But you couldn't give up the power," interjected Regina.

"Just one flaw your mother and I shared," Gold admitted gruffly.

"So you've been trying to get here ever since..." stated Snow. "You trapped _all_ of us here - condemned to this prison for _your_ benefit!?"

"That was the Evil Queen's doing!" replied Gold hotly. "She paid the price, just as I did, losing Baelfire to those fairy's tricks!" he growled.

"Everyone's fault but your own, hm? If only this world had fainting couches, I would pass out from the shock," Snow replied sarcastically.

Gold's fingers tightened around his cane and he stalked towards them. Emma fought the urge not to flinch. Magic or no, she'd seen what the monster was capable of when angered. Moe French was still hobbled from the beating Gold had given him, as far as she knew. He leaned in towards Snow, who had to place a restraining arm on her husband to keep him from escalating things. Suddenly he snapped his head 90 degrees left, startling Regina, who had been lost in her own thoughts over what she'd just seen.

She had been absently fingering the scar on her lip. She'd been told she'd cut it as a toddler, in a fall. Now, here in her face, was the man who did it, looking more human, but not a day older than he had on the day he left that mark. "The unfortunate consequence of a botched healing is no amount of magic can get rid of that scar. But I suppose that's the way of all things brought to us by magic - good or bad. They leave marks that will be with us for all time." He turned the rest of his body towards her. "Your mother took a piece of the Dark One into her that day. And once it gets its claws into you, it takes someone of great willpower to be willing to give it up. Zoso, the man who carried the Dark One before me, was desperate to end his torment. The Dark Queen was willing to part with her magic, tainted by the Dark One, to get her happy ending." Regina saw something flash in his eyes and knew there was more to this web of magic and deceit. "And I hope to be strong enough, once I get Bae back."

"Bay... Baelfire. That's the name of your son?" asked David.

Mr. Gold drew back. Knowledge was power and he was loathe to give them anything. Despite what he needed from them, and being necessary to the plan, centuries of habit - especially regarding something so personal, made him hesitate.

"It was... is," a gentle voice answered, her accent a fitting counterpoint to Gold's. Regina looked past the man-imp, to see a demure, pretty young woman with long brown hair.

"Belle," said David, giving her a nod.

Belle slowly made her way to Gold's side. She slid her arm into the crook of his elbow and Regina was shocked to see most of the imp melt away from Gold. Whatever tormented the little man and made him so unpleasant seemed much easier for him to bear with this woman by his side. "If this is going to work, you need to learn to trust." She shot Regina a sidelong glance, full of a history Regina couldn't begin to fathom. "Just trust the _right_ people. And these people - all of them - are just that."

"You know how I feel, dearest," he replied, his voice tortured with conflicting impulses. Snow raised an eyebrow, noticing the way the term of endearment rolled from his tongue, the mocking vinegar replaced by reverential honey. It was wholly unsettling, being forced to view the man behind the beast, and she thought back to her own 'dark' period.

"He wants to find Baelfire, but we still can't leave Storybrooke if the barrier is to be maintained," explained Belle.

"That's where you come in, Miss Swan," added Gold.

"What am I supposed to do?" the blond replied.

"Finding people is what you do, is it not?" he shot back.

"Yeah, but magic and beans-" Emma protested.

"Are not what is needed here. I need someone who knows this world better than what you can observe from afar. Our ledger will be on balance when you bring him here."

"And why should he come with me? My jurisdiction as sheriff ends at Storybrooke's border."

"_That_ is a matter which requires a certain amount of discretion. Discretion I'm certain you'll appreciate, once you know the details. Which is why we must speak alone."

Emma crossed her arms pensively.

"No deal. Anything you can say to her you can say in front of us," declared David.

"David.. " warned Snow. He still didn't know how complicated, and dark, Emma's life had been before Storybrooke, but she wouldn't give up the things her daughter had told her in confidence - even for Charming. All she could do was urge his patience while encouraging Emma to open up, past banter. It was putting a strain on both her relationships, but until things settled down, she could only tread water on the whole thing and hope for the best.

"I do believe the age of majority in this world is 18, which means you're ten years too late to decide that for your daughter," replied Gold cooly. He returned his attention to Emma. "You agree to a quick talk, I tell you some key information to Regina's... predicament."

Emma groaned, knowing it was her best choice in this less than ideal situation. "Fine!" she said, throwing up her hands.

"Excellent," replied Gold with a nod. He choked up his grip on his cane and lightly tapped it on Regina's chest, causing the younger woman to flinch. "The little prison in your chest there contains the same magic your mother stole from me, but the bars are made up of your own hope and love. I can't, at the moment, say how to unlock it, for you must forge the key. But I do know, you may want to seriously consider whether that's something you want to do. I think you already know there is a lifetime's worth of pain and regrets locked safely away in there; releasing them may bring back parts of yourself you'd likely wish stayed forgotten, as well as the magic of the Dark One. And... ignorance _is_ bliss, as they say." He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Choose wisely."

Regina swallowed nervously, but put up her best brave front and nodded. "I shall take that under advisement."

Gold nodded, satisfied, and looked up to address everyone else. "Now, if you'll excuse Miss Swan and myself?"

David and Snow shot their daughter a concerned look, but she simply nodded, indicating she would be fine. Reluctantly, the couple turned, Regina on their heels, to leave the blond in the lion's den. Once the bell jingled, indicating they were outside, Emma leaned her hip against a counter and crossed her arms. "Well?" she asked.

"As I said. Our slate shall be as clean as Regina's pretty, empty head, the moment I lay eyes on my son."

"Seriously? You _do_ realize there's billions of people out there, don't you? He could be anywhere! And you must know the possibility that he's... dead." She studied him for a reaction, but came up with nought.

"Yes, well, I have reason to believe you've made his acquaintance before," he replied.

"Acquaintance? I'm supposed to find some guy, who I met once, and convince him to come with me to Storybrooke, Maine, from god only knows where in the world, to meet a father that he may or may not remember, that he came here as a kid to escape in the first place?!" Emma said incredulously. "Are you kidding me? That's not a favor, that's frigging mission impossible!"

"He didn't run away!" Gold cried back, prompting Belle to place her hands firmly on his chest.

"Calm yourself," she ordered. "You think that's the kind of father he wants to come back to?" It pained her to see the injury she'd caused him in his eyes, but it had to be done.

He looked her in the eyes, and felt his frayed nerves soothed. Truly, the most powerful magic. "I was meant to go with him. There was... an accident. In any case, my plan had always been to leave Storybrooke when the curse broke, and search the world for my son. It had seemed hopeless at first. This world is many times larger than my own, and I couldn't know how old he was, what name he used, or even on which continent to start. That was 1983."

"How can you not know his age?" asked Emma.

"Time flows differently in each realm. I lived well over a century after I lost my son, looking for a way back to him. Part of the curse was to bring us to a time in which he lived here. He's alive out there, somewhere," he explained.

"And you've been looking for him for 28 years now?" asked Emma, eyebrows raised. She couldn't fault his dedication.

He nodded. "It was largely fruitless for the first 13 years, with only a phone and letters to access the outside world. Private investigators wouldn't take a case without a name, date of birth, or location to start with. But when the internet appeared, I was finally able to make real progress, searching newspaper clippings for news of mysterious orphans. Which, as luck would have it, was how I found your whereabouts."

"You've been tracking me?!" she asked, feeling violated. The thought gave her goosebumps - that her fate had been at her heels for so long, without her knowledge.

"Keeping tabs is more like it. You proved easier than my son. It's hard to tell by illegally obtained phone and financial records, but I suspect he never fully became comfortable with this world's love of 'imaginary' money. He seems to mostly operate on cash."

"So, you know where he is?"

"Vaguely. Enough that you, with your sherriff's resources, should be able to pinpoint his location with ease."

Emma's mouth hung open just a bit as she realized just how nuanced this guy's game was. "That's why you got me elected sheriff..."

"Guilty as charged. But it's proved mutually beneficial to both of us, your whole family really, wouldn't you say?" he replied with a small smirk.

Emma set her jaw, reluctant to admit his point. "I guess so," she admitted finally. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Indeed it doesn't," he replied lightly. "But I'm afraid I have a few more pieces of information you'll likely not be pleased with, so I behest you now to control yourself."

She eyed him warily. "The reason I wouldn't want my family here."

"I'm simply leaving it to your judgement on what you wish to share. It's only courteous, given the sensitivity of the subject, and your inherent preference for privacy."

Emma shrugged. "Thanks, I guess?"

He held up a hand. "Hold the thanks until after I tell you. I wouldn't want you regretting the words. Believe it or not, my time largely separated from the Dark One's influence has given me perspective on the things I've done. I may not be the meek man I was before the power - as I said before, magic leaves a mark on all touched by it - but I have more regrets than even a man as long-lived as myself should. And what I've put your family through is chief among them. Cora was a tainted soul long before I found her, and Regina always had the potential. But your mother and father were both pure of heart; selfless, even when it came to how their own love effected those they counted as friends, and still fair with the likes of the Evil Queen and myself. It was only the curse that turned that drive to hurt none against them, making their love a force of destruction."

"Ok, so..."

"So, realize what I am about to say wasn't intended, and it shouldn't have been your family's cross to bare, but it's where we find ourselves." He sighed. "I first realized the truth when I procured Henry for Regina. I had known you were pregnant, still barely more than a child yourself, so I went to work convincing Regina a child would fill the hole in her heart. Time being frozen here, she couldn't have one herself."

"Like Cinderella being pregnant for 28 years..." said Emma.

He nodded. "Yes, even if she still had the ability to carry one, she wouldn't have been able to. So, I -"

"Whoa, wait! What?" stuttered Emma. "What does _that _mean?"

"Were you not paying attention before? There is a reason I've said the Dark One taints us. Did you not see my skin and Cora's wound?" He continued as Emma still looked bewildered. "As I said, I was attempting to create my own magic bean - did you not wonder why I didn't use one to get here?"

"Because beanstalks take you up and sewer pipes take you down?" answered Emma in frustrated sarcasm. "Oh, wait, that's Princess Peach's kingdom. My mistake."

Ignoring her attitude, he continued. "The Dark One's magic stops all growth. While that means long life for the carrier, it means nothing can grow inside them. No new life. My magic could never create magic beans, for it couldn't grow. I couldn't make a barren woman pregnant, so I had to procure them in... other ways."

"Regina is barren," replied Emma quietly.

Gold nodded. "As was her mother, once she took in the taint. If she was so disappointed in Regina, isn't it strange she didn't have another child?"

"Why not steal one like you did?"

"Who's to say she didn't try?"

"Are you saying?"

"No. Not for certain. I kept my distance until Regina came of age. And even then, Cora didn't know it was I putting certain thoughts in her head. But, certain statements over the years have led me to believe Cora may have been targeting Snow for something. _The_ something that made Regina take in dark powers and banish her mother from the kingdom. It was all very hush-hush." He sighed. "In any case, as I was saying... I offered you a generous sum in exchange for a closed adoption." He paused, letting her digest his words.

"_You_ did that?" she growled quietly. "I was on the fence - without that cash I might have -"Emma was almost shaking after being blindsided with the idea that it hadn't completely been her choice, her nails surely drawing blood as they dug into her palms. Her eyes clouded with rage and pain as she relived the day she gave Henry up.

He nodded. "Kept him. I know," he replied quietly. "As I said, I am not proud of what I've done. But it did bring you back to your parents."

"Hurry up and finish this before my fist finds somewhere softer to land than the wall..." her nostrils flared as she was breathing deeply, doing her best to control her temper.

"He feels terrib-" began Belle.

"Don't care," Emma said through her teeth, cutting off the girl. Her eyes flitted back to Gold. "Talk."

"What I didn't expect was that the boy that was delivered was imbued not just of the essence of your family line... I could feel the blood of my own radiating from him."

"Are you kidding me?!" Emma snapped, eyes wild. "This Baelfire, this Bay was..." she paled as she pulled to name of Henry's father, one she'd fought to forget long ago, to mind. "Bailey. Fryer. _He's_ your son?!"

"Children tend not towards subtly when choosing aliases," replied Gold flatly.

"The orphanage assigned it... they tweaked his name to fit in better. Because the community he came from was... stuck in the past..." she thought aloud, quietly, as she recalled the first conversation during which they'd bonded over their shared experiences in the system. "He said it was kind of like the Amish..." She locked angry eyes on the man, surprised to find him hanging on every word. She supposed it was the first first hand information on his son's personal life he'd had since the kid had escaped. The thought of having slept with Gold's son... having a piece of the imp, however small, growing inside her made her queasy. The thought that _this _thing was Henry's grandfather sent a chill up her spine. "Well, that explains why he was such an unbelievable bastard," she remarked as she settled down.

It was Gold's turn to become enraged, only his need for this woman to retrieve his son, and his love for Belle, keeping from unleashing the beast within. "He was a good and kind boy! How dare you!"

"He may have been, but _something_ sure screwed him up! Or haven't you wondered why _he_ isn't raising Henry right now!?" Emma shot back.

Gold pushed the rage down. It was a question he had asked himself many times. He'd settled for blaming Emma. "You're on record saying you didn't know who the father was."

"I had no choice. I was already in jail, thanks to him. He made it very clear that if I told anyone he was the father, things would be much worse for me! When that money offer came along, I knew I couldn't keep the baby. It wouldn't be fair to him, and I didn't want to face a lifetime lying to my own kid about his dad! But, oh, wait, I've had to do _that_ too, thanks to you!"

Gold took a couple steps back, as if she'd physically hit him. "That can't be... he works for the fire department... he risks his life for others... he's a hero..."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Sure he is... look, nevermind, let's just get this over with. Then you can see for yourself. He still in Phoenix?"

The man looked more tired than she'd ever seen as he turned his back, pulling a file from his desk. "Uh, no... it's all here. And one more thing... I suggest you bring August."

Emma frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, aside from being the only person to wander more than yourself... I have reason to believe he's had dealings with my son. He knew about the enchanted dagger and the thrall. Pinocchio would never have known."

"And how am I supposed to get Bailey back here? We didn't exactly part on good terms - and neither did you, it seems."

"Just tell him about Henry. If that doesn't work, that's where your puppet man will come in handy. Just don't - don't tell him what I've done or the deal is off. No matter how far after the path he may have strayed, my Bae is in there and I fear he'll never return if he knows how many lives, how much happiness, has been destroyed on his behalf..."

"Have you seen what's going on out there? I can't leave my family in the middle of this! What if Regina's memory comes back?"

"I guarantee their safety," he replied, offering his hand. Emma looked at it skeptically and Gold sighed. "I've only broken my word once, and I've spent a lifetime trying to put it right."

"Use your... magic or whatever to help Storybrooke while I'm away, and you've got yourself a deal," Emma replied. At Gold's hesitation, she added, "It would go a long way to redeeming yourself in your son's eyes, I bet. Helping clean up the mess you've caused.

He felt Belle squeeze his arm and Gold nodded and Emma took his hand, shaking it. "Deal."

"What if I don't want him in Henry's life?" asked Emma.

"So get a restraining order. You're sheriff and the local judge is a friend of your parents. Figure. It. Out."

"You're his grandfather - don't you care at all what influence your son could have one him?!" Admitting the relationship, and saying it aloud, brought on a new wave of disgust.

"I don't deserve to have a hand in raising such a pure child. Not yet, anyway. Who knows how I'd taint him."

"So, rather than redeeming yourself with him, you'll have me bring your son, his father, into his life? The man who convinced a kid to take the fall for him, and turned his back when he found out she was carrying his child? And you won't even offer a finger to help protect Henry?" Emma shook her head. "You're one hell of an insufferable bastard, you know that?"

"Indeed I do, Miss Swan," he replied darkly and he turned from her, disappearing into the darkness in the back of the shop. Belle offered her a silent apology before trailing after him.

Emma stared after them, feeling the weight of yet another burden on her shoulders. The loss of Mary Margaret was suddenly, painfully felt, and she sighed. "It never ends..." she said quietly to herself. She closed her eyes, gathering what energy she had left after such a long day, and pushed back her shoulders before turning the knob to rejoin her family. She blinked against light that seemed unusually bright for later afternoon when you were stepping out of a spider hole.

"Are you okay, Emma?" Snow asked, hesitating for second, but decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Why do you ask?" replied Emma.

"You're... green," answered David, for lack of a better description.

Snow held the back of her hand against Emma's forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. Emma tried to wave her off, but Snow was having none of it, and Emma felt too drained to resist any further. "You don't feel warm or clammy... Did he do something to you?" she asked in worry.

The implications of everything she'd just seen, all the information, flashed like before her eyes, culminating in a vision she thought she'd successfully erased from her memory. But there it was, Bailey, his roguishly shaggy hair hanging down as he held himself above her. Her skin against his, only separated by a thin sheen of sweat, both wearing broad smiles and nothing else, drunk on infatuation - and not a little raspberry vodka. Eyes locked with hers as she let him in - welcomed him in.

Those eyes. Gold's eyes.

She doubled over, her body trying to physically purge the taint of him, despite it being 11 years since the last trace of it had left her body with Henry. Her stomach was literally empty as well, but she continued to dry heave, trying to focus on the feeling of her mother's arms around her shoulders and push the other image away. Finally, she was panting, a cold sweat on her brow.

David was pacing angrily and she looked up blearily. "Calm down there killer," she said weakly.

David stood stock still. "What did he do to you?!"

She rested her head in her hands. "Nothing. Well.. not exactly. It's complicated."

"Not when it comes to my family," he replied in suppressed rage.

"Actually, that's the whole point. Family. Ours and his." She sighed, wishing they'd driven.

Somehow, Snow always knew what she was thinking, and she was surprised to see only concern in the woman's eyes - none of David's anger - and she wondered if the woman had somehow guessed. Whatever. She'd find out soon enough. "I'll go get my car," Snow declared.

"What do you mean, our families?" asked David, a little more restrained. Snow shot him a warning look and ceased pressing the issue.

Emma shook her head, beginning to feel like herself again, but not so much that she didn't let her mother help her to her feet. "No, I'll be fine. I just..."

"You're white as a sheet," remarked Snow, concern heavily lacing her tone.

"Really."

Snow looked at her skeptically, but knew when to back off. "If you say so." She saw David still eying Gold's shop, and decided to move her efforts into a more productive task. She hooked her arm into her husband's and tugged him in the direction of home, forcing herself to go ahead of her daughter, still, walking slowly so as to not leave her behind.

After Snow left her side to handle David - much to her relief; she wasn't sure she had the energy to stop him from doing something stupid - Emma did her best to pull herself together. She was still a little disoriented by her body's little rebellion, and stopped to steady herself after a few steps. She was surprised when she felt a hand on her back, steadying her. She wondered how Snow had gotten back so fast, but nearly jumped when she turned to find Regina by her side. "Uhm thanks..." she mumbled.

Regina shrugged. "I've been there..." she offered. She knew disgust when she saw it, and there were a number of times she hated the very blood in her veins because half of it was her mother's. "It helps if you let someone take a little of the burden. But I understand if you don't trust me..." While seeing the true nature of her grandfather had been comforting to some extent, she still couldn't forgive what Cora let that power do to her. "You know... because of my family."

Emma sighed, letting Regina stabilize her as they walked, recalling how frustrating it had been when the woman had wrenched herself from Emma the moment they were clear of the fire. The implication of disgust for her, when Emma was simply trying to help her, had pissed her off more than anything else. She gave Regina a small smirk. "Let's just say we're even now... at least when it comes to carrying each other around."

Regina gave the blond a puzzled smile, but sensed that it meant something important to Emma - and probably should have to her. The phantom smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils and she saw Emma extending a hand to her. It was brief, but she felt certain this was what the woman was referencing. "Deal," she replied with a nod.

Snow allowed herself one glance back to make sure Emma was still okay, and was amazed to find her daughter allowing Regina to take some of her weight as they walked. _'What the hell had happened in there?'_

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**A/N: **You made it to through the whole thing?! Kudos. Review high five! ;) Hope the wait and length was worth it. A few more dominoes (as the rest of the townspeople come into play) need to be set and the consequences will come fast and hard for everyone after that. We'll be getting back to Cora a little later, as well.


	14. In Digestion

**Author's Notes: **To Rumbelle fans - please understand that I'm not hating on the ship, the characters are. So please keep that in mind. There won't be a ton of Rumbelle later, either, but she will play an important role in the grand scheme of things. For the Regina fans, I promise there will be plenty more coming up soon - both out on the town and flashbacks in FTL.

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Much love to those that reviewed!

**LadyRynofSunnydale**** : **I'm so glad you feel like the characterization is consistent. I find I'm having fun trying to slowly pull the darker parts of Regina out and evolve her (as well as Cora) but am not always sure I'm hitting the mark. My favorite fic are always the ones which can recreate the character's voices in my head. I can't speak to trying to outdo myself, but the arc in this is already mapped out, so we'll see. I plan on it resembling a term those who read music should recognize - the fortepiano crescendo. Roughly translated, it's when a note or musical phrases volume starts off with a loud bang that then drops immediately to very quiet and then builds back to a finale louder and bigger than where it stated. We're still in the first half of the crescendo.

**DracoMom:** Yeah. Sum total of chapters 12 and 13 when they were still one came in at ~22,000 words. Since I write stream of consciousness, with ordered bullet points of events I need to hit, I'm always surprised when that happens. I only go back to fix typos and occasionally clean up sentences. I probably need an editor, since I'm rarely able to bring myself to cut anything unless I've written myself into a corner - thus August's comments in this chapter. Luckily, it rarely happens to me.

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**Shoutouts! **The updates for many of the longer stories seem to have dried up recently, I'll hazard a guess that it's because it's back to school season. If you find yourself in need of a good OUAT read and aren't following these folks, go correct that now :D I'm thinking of starting a C2 of OUAT author's recc's, since as the number of stories grows, finding great stories that are well-written becomes more and more difficult. If you're an author who has any fics in mind that deserve more attention (and aren't your own) and are interested in taking part, message me or look for the C2 in the next few days and we'll go from there. Once Evil .Regal recc'd a few things in her update, so I thought I'd do the same, and was inspired to create a C2 as a long term solution to the problem of hidden gems.

"Imprisoned" by .Regal - Really engaging, spot-on characterization that takes them into places you wouldn't have thought could be believable but pulls it off - especially Regina.

"All That Follows" by .Winter - Ditto for this one, and uses the canon of the series in unique ways while fleshing out the universe wonderfully.

"Red Hope" by tvfan83 - One of the few Red/Ruby centric stories out there and includes original twists that scratch my insatiable time travel itch while telling a broader story.

"Whiter Shade of Pale" by Redemption By Fire - Dark and angsty but not oppressively so, this provides explores what happened to Snow's mother in a brilliant way that turns what we know on its head without brazenly breaking canon.

"The Second Hand Unwinds" by writetherest - I'm not a SwanQueen shipper, but this one won me over. What if Emma had lost her memory mid-season?

"In the Shadow of the Toll Bridge" by Nikslitslepmur - A wonderful AU for the path of season one that includes lots of FTL characters we haven't seen yet, or much, but are interesting and well-rounded.

There are good number more out there and I'll be including them later and on the C2.

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This is more of a palate cleansing fluff chapter more than anything else. Well, fluff for me, which means bonding over tough or not so tough conversations.

Ok, ok, shutting up! Hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 14: In Digestion**

The walk had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Emma was grateful that she was mostly pulled together by the time they'd gotten back to their loft. Snow and David sneaking glances back at her that were far less discrete than they probably believed was bad enough - having Henry worry about her would have raised questions she wasn't prepared to discuss, and he already had one mom's condition to fret over. Kids shouldn't ever be put in that position, and a car ride wouldn't have allowed her the time to regroup.

It had also given her the chance to digest Gold's revelations - or at least order them in such a way that she could unspin the web he'd woven. First and foremost, she would need to speak with August; she suspected that he knew about Henry's origins. She trusted the guy, hell, she was fond of him, but he had a bad habit of playing things way too close to the leather vest in the name of protecting her - likely a consequence of his guilt over abandoning her - and it needed to stop. Then there was the matter of what and when to tell her parents. She hadn't had to consider the possibility of them ever meeting the man who had knocked her up and run, let alone the gory details, but now, even if she _didn't_ have to retrieve the guy, she knew he would show up one way or another someday. At least this way, she could manage it on her terms. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit there was a certain satisfaction in finally having the upper hand when it came to that bastard Bailey. Baelfire. Whatever. But there was also the very real possibility that David would do something stupid in the name of fatherly duty, once he found out what the guy did and who he really was. Hell, she gave it a 50/50 shot that Snow would do the same, and she was the more dangerous of the two, in Emma's opinion.

Still... it was gonna happen. Ultimately, she decided to lay her bet on the woman who had been her best friend first; Snow was marginally less hot-headed when it came to the whole protective parent thing, given she'd saved Mary's life more than once. _And_ she'd have a better chance at reigning David in when the time came. As much as she loved the guy, he, like August, had the whole penance guilt complex in spades; unlike August, she could tell the ghost of the infant he'd given up haunted him, and despite his best efforts, tended to count her opinions with less weight than others. On the bright side, the files Gold had given her gave her an excuse to just make an appearance at the council meeting before bowing out. Somehow, she'd expected a council of fairy tale characters to be less about bickering and jostling for position than one of this world, but it turned out that bureaucracy was bureaucracy no matter what the reality. It wasn't boring, but it sure as hell was tedious, and when issues came to a stalemate it left her, as acting head of Storybrooke, to break the tie. It wasn't a position she liked being in as a kid, when her foster siblings couldn't decide what game to play, and she didn't like it any better now. Stack the fact that her parents were two of the council members, and she risked being accused of playing favorites every time she fell on their side of the fence.

As far as what to tell Henry... well, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? And then there was the matter of Regina. She didn't want to act on anything until she got back, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the fairies would have something, but given how everything was unfolding, she suspected Gold still had a hand to play in that mess. Every time she felt like she was good to walk on her own she'd remember another thing on her checklist, and the energy to entirely take her weight off the former queen seemed too much.

Regina seemed in need of some good old pondering too, as they had enjoyed a comfortable silence the entire walk back. At least she seemed to be lost in thought. She didn't know how much Mayor Mills knew of what Gold had revealed, but if what he implied - that Cora had taken or inherited Cora's stolen magic - she had likely known the technicalities of it. More troubling still was where Cora was. If she was in town, she was laying low. While Snow hadn't given her the impression that she remembered seeing Cora in town, it wasn't implausible that she'd seen the woman in passing while still Mary Margaret, and simply didn't interact with her enough to have made an impression. She sighed, realizing that some kind of census was going to have to be organized soon. Not that that would solve everything. Like the saying goes, if you outlaw guns, the only people who have them will be outlaws. You take a census and the only people you're going to find are the ones with nothing to hide. If she _was_ out there, it was another snake in the grass she'd have to worry about. The best she could hope for was that she was a rattler, like Regina, and not Constrictor like Gold, who you didn't even notice until it started to squeeze.

As she recognized that they were nearing Snow's family's home, Regina was pleased to find that Emma didn't seem to find her silence rude. The etiquette drilled into her since childhood made it very clear that whether hostess or guest, it was proper to make small talk to keep people entertained - and more importantly - avoid awkward silences. It was the grease of the social machine, her mother used to say. While she was certain Emma had plenty to mull over herself, the woman didn't seem to stand on proper etiquette, unless it was to stomp on it. It was refreshing, and exactly what she needed at the moment after the strangest, and most frightening day of her life - that she could remember, anyway. She had found herself in a feedback loop of thoughts as they walked along, and while being stuck on that endless water wheel was getting her nowhere, she found she was afraid to step off.

She knew her mother's magic was dark, but not that it came from _the _dark magic. And now that was inside her. Did it work like trees, where you could snap off a twig and grow a whole new one? How long had it been in her? Given how mystified everyone seemed about her condition, and the darkness in her, it had to be recent, right? But what if it wasn't? She remembered Emma helping her - though she also remembered she was angry about something. Was it directed at the blonde woman? But she had adopted Emma's son. Snow's grandson - she was still trying to wrap her head around that one. But if these people - good people - took her into their lives, trying to help her after their town had suffered some kind of catastrophe why did it seem like everyone else in town would like to see her gone? Or worse, see her strung up? The so-called Evil Queen was obviously responsible for at least part of it. And judging by what Rumplestiltskin seemed to deem important, she was guessing it related to her somehow. But she could never do anything like what she's gathered about the curse.

Her mother _had_ to be the Evil Queen. Maybe after she'd killed Daniel she had been too scared to cross her mother again? So, she was feared because it looked like she was on her mother's side. She knew Cora hungered for power, but evil on this scale seemed a bit much, even for her. But if Rumpelstiltskin had returned to further manipulate her... she could see Cora going _that_ far. And where were her parents now? Had Snow taken Regina in after the curse broke? No one had seemed like they expected to see her this morning - had it really one been one day here? Already her home and her stables were starting to feel a lifetime away. Had Cora put that dark magic in her for safekeeping until she came back? And so the logic loop would start again. A lovely story, but without any more facts, that's all it was. The worst part was, she was mostly sure she didn't want to know. All she could hope for was that there were plenty of good memories to outweigh the terrible ones that had surfaced, starting with what happened to Daniel. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, trusting Emma to not walk them into anything, and pushed Daniel out of her mind. Whatever the memory block was, it made it easier to do than usual to push unwanted thoughts from her mind - like hiding something in a drawer; out of sight, out of mind.

When she opened her eyes she caught Emma studying her. The blond quickly looked away and pulled her weight off her like Emma expected to get burned. "We don't normally get along," Regina surmised.

"What makes you say that?" asked Emma, still watching the ground.

"Well, for one, you keep looking at me like I've either grown a third eye or you're expecting me to bite your head off."

"That obvious, huh?" A small smile played on her lips and she shook her head. "This town's made me soft..."

"Is that such a bad thing?" asked Regina. Emma shrugged. "My mother always told me, 'Regina, dear,'" the brunette intoned seriously, impersonating Cora. "'So help me, if you insist on ignorning everything else I've tried to teach you, remember this: Love. Is. Weakness.'" She deflated a little and Emma tried not to stare at the second time in one day the former mayor had displayed a playful side. But then, if he mother was drilling lessons like that into her, it was remarkable the woman had ever been capable of trusting anyone.

Regina shrugged. "It frightened me when Daniel got past my walls, but... I just couldn't seem to get them up as high after that. Even when he wasn't around. It scared me - and I'm not proud of how I handled that."

Emma rolled her eyes up as if considering something. "Let me guess, snapping at anyone beneath you?" Her tone was teasing, but it was obvious there was something else behind it.

Regina nodded, regret clouding her eyes. "So, I guess it's a habit that came back after Daniel was gone..."

"With a vengeance!" Emma cringed. "Uh, sorry, that was... rude." She ran a hand through her hair.

"No, it's alright. I'm sure I've done more than enough to deserve it," the guilt in her voice was palpable.

Emma frowned. "No, it's not. You're not the woman who said all those things." It wasn't until she said it that she knew she really believed it. Whatever happened to Regina - if they restored her memories and that Regina came back, she would get the justice due her - the one standing beside her wasn't that woman. It was a person Emma could understand Snow feeling _so_ guilty about wronging; she was a demonstrably different person. Emma didn't know what the hell Cora had done to her, but after getting a glimpse of the monster hatchling, she was impressed Regina had made it to adulthood with her morality still intact. That had to be her father's influence, and for the first time, Emma didn't just accept her son's name - she was proud he bore it. She knew she was going to have a fight on her hands, but she wasn't going to let _this_ Regina pay for her future's mistakes, no matter what the council or townsfolk had to say. The problem now was, even if she convinced them, what to do with the woman afterwards.

"Thanks... I guess," replied Regina. "I take it I haven't been pleasant, exactly."

Emma gave her a sidelong glance. "You could say that. It's not like you really wanted me in Henry's life..."

"Why not?"

"Um, I... can't really say why at the beginning. I just know you were holding on to him so tight... I don't think you wanted to share him. And I don't really know when you figured out who I really was, but I _did _agree to a closed adoption when I gave him up." Regina gave her an inquisitive look. "A closed adoption is when a birth mother agrees to close all records regarding her and the father's identity, and never contact the kid again. So the birth parents can't change their minds about custody later, I guess," she clarified.

"Where I come from, unwanted children are simply abandoned." The image of Graham and his wolf came unbidden into Emma's head."It's rare, of course. Most orphans have simply lost their parents... I suppose I'm an orphan now too..." she suddenly realized.

"What makes you think you're an orphan?"

"I've forgotten things, but I'm not a fool. If my father or mother were around, surely you would have brought me to them. Unless you're keeping me away from my mother for probably-sound reasons." She was fishing for answers she wasn't sure she wanted, but couldn't help it.

"I have no idea where Cora is, or what her fate was," replied Emma honestly, but offering no details as to when that happened nor why that was the case.

"I'm not surprised. Still, it's strange to think of myself as being on my own - let alone having been a parent. It's a dream come true in many ways."

"Good. You're a bit old for an orphan, anyway," remarked Emma.

Regina shrugged. "I suppose so. I don't feel it, though."

"Just how old are you, anyway. I mean, up here?" Emma tapped a finger against her own head.

"Twenty-six... a spinster according to my mother. But when you grow up entirely dependent on servants, never learning how to fend for yourself... I don't _feel_ like an adult. I don't know how Snow did it..."

"Why do you say that?" It had never occurred to Emma before today just how different Snow'd childhood had been compared to her own. She'd grown up an honest to god princess.

Regina chuckled softly. "She was 12 when we met, but she was so small and innocent... that round little face... she could have passed for younger than Henry. Your mother up there - she's worlds away from what I would have expected. And I keep seeing little glimmers of that child in her eyes - like every time she steals a glance back at us," she observed with a smirk. "It's just... very strange. As I understand it, she was exiled, thrust into the world alone. And not only did she survive, she managed to hold on to that spark of innocence. And I... don't think I could have done that."

"She had a little help from her friends," was all Emma offered in explanation.

"I'd wager they'll make wonderful parents," Regina thought aloud.

Emma stared at Snow's back. Sure enough, the glint of her eyes over her shoulder, to which Emma waved back letting her know she'd been caught. Snow gave her an embarrassed, apologetic smile before snapping her head forward. "I'll let you know when, or if, she's given that chance," replied Emma, unable to keep the hard tone out of her voice.

Regina didn't know what to say to that, as she remembered that the woman standing beside her was living breathing proof of how much Snow and David had lost - or really, ripped from them. Never mind Emma, who had been an infant - there was no more innocent being in any realm. "I - I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I mean, you look like you could be her sister, not her-"

"I know. Trust me, I forget half the time," replied Emma flatly.

"For what it's worth... I don't know, I mean, what good it does when I don't know what I did, but I'm deeply sorry for whatever role I played in adding to your family's sorrows. Even if it was something as simple as standing between you and Henry," she added the last in a hopeful tone, but Emma wasn't giving her any hints, simply staring ahead.

"... For what it's worth... thanks for giving my kid a home," Emma offered finally. She instinctively waited for Regina's favorite justification for everything: 'He's _my_ son!'. But she only heard the echoes of her memories. Regina remained eyes front, silent._ 'Is it possible the old Regina isn't in just repressed but truly gone?'_

"Gods only know what my mother would think of me now, still unwed." Emma chuckled. "What?"

"_You_, a spinster? I'm nearly 29 and half the women my age I know aren't even thinking about settling down. And sure as hell no one would call 'em spinsters. So, you've got that going for ya."

"Except I'm not really 26. I'm..." Lacking a mirror, she examined her hand. "Judging by Snow, at least in my early forties - physically. And that thing about the curse... so, what, sixties, really?"

Emma shrugged. "You'd have to ask Mare, or uh, Snow on that one. Henry's book was never specific when it came to timelines. Hell, I could be older than my parents, for all I know."

"Why don't you simply as?"

"It's not exactly something I've been itching to have confirmed. This is weird enough as it is."

"Understandable." With that, she realized they were back at the building in which Snow and her family lived; David holding the door open for them. It struck Regina that the ritual seemed much less gallant and wholly unnecessary when the doors weren't enormous hunks of wood and wrought steel. Still, it was nice. "Thank you," she offered with an easy smile, which the former prince returned.

As Emma followed he offered his daughter a squeeze to the shoulder, which moved to the small of her back as she moved past, guiding her through the door before he followed, earning a roll of her eyes.

Regina found Snow waiting at the apartment door, hand on the knob. "You might want to brace yourself," Snow advised and opened the door.

"Mom!" cried Henry.

"Brace for wha-oof!" said Regina as a 70 pound weight barreled into and latched itself around her stomach. She hadn't expected the cry of 'mom' to be for her, and it took a moment for her to grasp why he was hugging _her._ "Whoa! Hey there!" she laughed when she saw Henry beaming up at her. The look was so much like little Snow's had been the last time she saw her it was eerie. Like looking into the past and the future all at once. The smile was infectious, nonetheless, and she found herself returning it. "To what do I owe this welcome?"

He gave her Emma's eyeroll. "You came from Rumplestiltskin's lair. You can never take it for granted you're gonna get out okay." His feelings about the woman who raised him had been confusing and contradictory ever since he discovered the curse. Being a child, the world was very much black and white when it came to good and evil, but this version of Regina was still one of the good guys. He felt like he could love her wholly again, without worry that she would hurt anyone he cared about.

"_Lair_ is a little dramatic even for you, ain't it kid?" joked Emma as she approached. Henry looked up and the smile fell from his face the moment he saw her. She couldn't stop herself from examining her son's features for any hint of Gold's features. She'd done much the same when he'd come back into her life, looking for Bailey. But once she knew Snow was her mother she'd happily let herself believe his dark hair was from Snow. God knows those ears were.

"Mom! You're not okay." He released Regina and dashed for Emma. She was taken aback by the sense of loss and jealousy it triggered in her. It didn't seem to be tied to any particular memory, but she had a hard time imagining she could have bonded with the boy so deeply, so quickly. She suddenly knew she understood how she and Emma could have gotten off on the wrong foot

"Kid, I'm fine. Scout's honor."

Henry hugged Emma briefly, but then stepped back to examine her. "No you're not," he declared skeptically. "Your hug is... wrong."

Emma sighed. "I'm just tired, buddy." He crossed his arms. "Okay, okay. He just told me some stuff that freaked me out a little. But I'm fine." He narrowed his eyes, and she wondered for not the first time if he hadn't inherited her knack for spotting deception. "Look, I can't talk about it just yet. But you remember how I owe Mr. Gold a favor?"

His eyes widened in fear. "He doesn't want _me _does he?"

Emma chuckled, but her voice was still troubled. "No, no. I don't think he would ever hurt you." She noticed her parents exchange a look at this comment, and was relieved that Henry hadn't seemed to notice the slip of information. "And even if he did, I would _never _let anyone take you away from me again. You know that, right?" He nodded. "Good. Always remember that."

"So what _did_ he want?" Henry asked curiously.

"He just wants me to find somebody."

"That makes sense," he nodded authoritatively.

"Oh, and why's that?" asked Snow.

"Duh. 'Cause it's what our family does. We find each other," he replied.

Snow and David shared an amused look. "That we do, buddy," said David.

"So who ya gonna find?" asked Henry.

"_That _is currently top secret. Sorry, kid," replied Emma, a troubled look in her eyes.

"Is it someone dangerous?" he asked, obviously worried.

Emma furrowed her brow, trying to figure out the best way to answer. "I don't know just yet. But I _do _know no one is going to hurt you - or the rest of my family, " she added quickly. "Don't worry, I won't be gone long. I promise."

Seemingly satisfied, Henry nodded and took Emma's hand. "Me and August made spaghetti," he announced and started to pull her inside. "He taught me how to make real italian sauce, like Chef Boyardee!" he declared proudly.

"Wow," replied Emma with a laugh, relieved to have the subject behind her. "And here I thought the only meal he knew how to make was an order off a menu." The pair went inside, followed by her parents and Regina.

"Hardy har har," replied August, flipping a dish towel over his shoulder. "Quite funny coming from a master chef such as yourself."

"Hey, I make a mean grilled cheese," Emma shot back.

"Can you show me that sometime?" asked Henry earnestly.

"Sure. The secrets all in toasting the bread before you put the cheese in," Emma replied with a wink.

"Hope you don't mind me using your kitchen and food," August said to Snow. "I kinda figured you guys wouldn't have time to cook _and_ eat before the meeting tonight, and as good as Granny's cooking is, you can only eat at a place so many times a day before you start getting sick of it."

Snow glanced at the wall clock. She hadn't realized how late it was getting. It was only a half hour before they'd have to be at the diner for the council meeting. "No! No, not at all!" She slid onto a stool at the counter. "And it doesn't even look like the place exploded," she remarked with a sly smile at Emma.

"My Pop always taught me that if you clean as you go in a workshop, you'll never lose a tool," said August. "So, how did it go?" he asked as he pulled out some bowls. Snow and Emma let out simultaneous groans. "That good, huh?"

"Yeah... about that. I'm gonna need to talk to you about some things. Gold has a little... assignment I'll need your help with. And a certain mutual acquaintance of ours," said Emma pointedly.

August froze for a brief second, but then quickly covered, moving to stir the sauce on the stovetop. "I see," he said, peering into the pot. He'd been dreading this day, and had been holding out hope it was going to come up later. A lot later. But he wasn't entirely surprised, especially after finding out Emma owed Gold a favor.

"So, what's this council meeting I keep hearing about?" asked Regina, attempting to shift the conversation away from the awkward silence it was clearly about to fall into.

"It's the de facto government we've got set up until we can figure out something more permanent," replied Snow, gratefully.

"We've got the rulers of all the kingdoms affected by the curse acting in joint leadership. So, King Midas and his daughter Princess Abigail, myself, Snow, Prince Thomas and his father King Francis, and King Eric and Queen Ariel," David explained. "With everything going on, we've got our hands full trying to organize the town, figure how and if we can get back home, and..."

"Me," stated Regina.

He shrugged apologetically. "Yeah. It's.."

"Complicated, I know." She glanced down. "I know I'm wrapped up in everything that happened, somehow..." She looked up, resolute. "I'm sure whatever is decided is what should be done. I know you and Snow are fair, honorable people. Moreover, I trust you."

"Really?" Snow let slip in an earnest tone before her mind caught up with her mouth.

Regina shrugged. "I can feel it. I don't know how, but it's... I just know."

Snow blinked rapidly, her expression mingling between happiness and sorrow, and utterly mystifying for Regina. She was quickly getting used to the feeling. "We won't let that trust down," replied Snow finally, her voice low and serious, laced with hidden meaning.

"I know," Regina responded simply. She wasn't about to try and dissect the history here, deciding to take a page from her father's book and follow her instincts instead.

August cleared his throat. "Alright! Ring-a-ding-ding - dinner's on." As August and Henry placed bowls in front of everyone, the four that made up Snow's family at the table, and August and Regina at the counter, the whole situation began to take on a comfortable, familial atmosphere. Regina reflected on the oddness of that, given she didn't _really_ know anyone here. But it was right somehow - until the so-called spaghetti was placed on front of here, anyway. She poked at it with her fork before taking a little of the sauce onto her fork, giving it a taste.

She looked up, seeing everyone else tuck into their plates without question. "Uh, what is this? The sauce."

August, Henry, and Emma all looked at her in surprise, but Snow and David seemed to at least understand the reason for her question. "Tomato sauce. It's a basic, standard sauce to serve with noodles in this realm," answered Snow.

"Tomatoes?!" Regina cried. "As in the fruit of nightshade plants? How can you..?"

"Science in this world has its plusses," replied Snow. "Without magic, people have had to experiment with the natural world around them. While our realm's best minds were working fruitlessly on alchemy and siege weapons, many the ones here were busy trying to make everyone's life better. That's gotten us, er, them? Things like the car... I guess you'd understand them better as horseless carriages... plumbing, an understanding of disease - and geological phenomena too - like earthquakes and volcanos," she explained, thinking back on the class projects with her never-changing class of perpetual 10 years fondly "Recreating small models of them for demonstration is a basic part of every school child's education."

"The point being that tomatoes aren't toxic as we believed...?" concluded Regina. A sudden laugh bubbled from her throat, earning perplexed looks from everyone else. "Sorry. It just finally struck me that for all my mother's lust for power, Rumplestiltskin talked the Evil Queen into giving it all up for this place! One where the power is held by brains and not magical brawn."

Snow and David exchanged worried looks. Had Regina concluded that the Evil Queen was her mother? It made sense on its face - no one thinks of themselves as evil. So what does your mind conclude when confronted your own deeds without being filtered through their personal justifications?

"Yes, we're still trying to... suss out the Evil Queen's ultimate goal here. There were easier ways to get total revenge."

"She wanted love," Henry said simply.

Regina frowned. "You have to be capable of giving it to get any back."

"The love you take is equal to the move you make," August intoned with a smirk.

Regina nodded, not getting the reference. "I don't know that she was still capable of it by the time I met you Snow, let alone however many years later."

"That doesn't mean you don't still try for it," replied Henry. "Everyone wants to be loved, right? Even if they don't believe they deserve it."

Regina gave Henry a bemused look. "Are you sure you're only 11?" Henry beamed at her at the implied compliment, bringing Regina dangerously close to blushing as she was filled with warmth. No one had ever valued her opinion of them quite so earnestly, even if she'd spent her entire childhood seeking the same from Cora. She couldn't imagine holding the heart of a child like Henry in her hands and ever doing anything to hurt it; it made her mother's actions that much more monstrous now that she knew what that kind of power felt like.

The rest of dinner was filled with friendly conversation, Regina mostly listening, doing her best to follow along; David relayed the dwarve's daily reports, August updated them on what progress had been made towards repairs being done around town - apparently his father was a man named Geppetto and had been a wood craftsmen in their home realm, and a general handyman in Storybrooke. August made some joke about the whole town getting a 'medieval chic' makeover, which everyone else laughed at - it seemed to be related to the massive deadbolt lock on Snow's front door. Despite not following much of the conversation, and the simple food and setting, it was one of the most pleasant meals she'd ever had.

She found herself drifting into the same daydream she'd had over many a tea service: what life would have been like had she been able to run away with Daniel. She imagined their early days, before they settled permanently, traveling the realm, seeing everything the world had to offer and boisterous meals in shabby taverns with questionable, but entertaining, company. They would settle in whatever corner of the world pulled them in with its siren song and settle their; Daniel with his stables, Regina with her garden and a bakery where she would craft delectable pastry treats. As a pair of orphans, he by misfortune, she by choice, they would surround themselves with a small circle of friends that were as close as family, and enjoy jovial, intimate meals much like the one she was experiencing at that moment, and nothing like the sterile, silent dining she'd grown up with.

Her gaze drifted to Henry and she noted that while he sat properly - elbows not on the table, napkin in lap - he held his fork with the curved side up, didn't spin his noodles on a spoon, and took bites of tremendous size, the loose noodles leaving spots of red sauce stains around his mouth - and somehow, one on his forehead. A smile played on her lips - Cora would've been horrified, and she couldn't be happier that the woman obviously hadn't gotten her claws into the boy she'd raised as her own - and she was _sure_ she had. Emma and August both ate like any commoner; elbows on the table, napkin resting on the table half the time, reaching over people for the 'parmesan' or rolls, rather than requesting someone pass them. Snow and her husband retained most of their courtly manners, but conducted themselves casually, reflecting the more relaxed nature of this realm she'd already observed in the clothes, manners, and interactions between people of varying social rank. Henry's table manners were a small thing, but it was the first clear fingerprint that she'd truly had a significant hand in molding the boy.

"Penny for your thoughts," said August, whom she realized must have been studying her.

"Hmm?" she murmured, snapping back to her surroundings.

"What are you thinking about, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Regina shrugged. "Nothing of any particular importance."

"You couldn't have been smiling like that for nothing," he said, giving her a nudge with his elbow.

"Why the interest?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I'm a writer. I study people. You can't write if you don't understand what makes folks tick... not _well_ anyway."

"I suppose," replied Regina, eying him. She wasn't used to anyone but her father and Daniel taking an interest in her as a person and didn't know what to make of it. Was he a natural flirt, or was he genuinely interested in her in that way. She couldn't conceive of a man caring about what she was thinking with no ulterior motive.

"It's the kind of study that never ends, you know; there are more facets to human behavior than the most brilliantly cut diamond. If someone tells you they know all there is to people, or even a single person, they're a liar - either to themselves or to you._ So_... what's going on up there?" He pointed at her head with his overloaded fork before turning it back to shovel a small yarn ball sized knot of noodles into his mouth.

She glanced pensively back at the dining room table and was glad everyone sitting at the table was wrapped up in their own familial discussion. "Well... if you must know, I was thinking about the irony of the curse. The Evil Queen banished everyone to this world where she would have no magic, which is her first and most powerful defense; I believe Rumplestiltskin didn't tell her about the rest of it though."

"It?" asked August, mouth still half full.

Regina chuckled quietly. "_That_." She nodded her head at the scruffy man. "Social propriety was her second bag of tricks. She wielded the rules of courtly conduct like a knight does a sword. Like accepting the King's marriage proposal for me. There was no going back on that, and she forced me to either run or marry him. I don't think she thought I had the courage to leave the world of privilege." She huffed out a single puff of air from her nose. "Not that she _ever_ understood me. Anyway, Cora wore regality like a gown. Being banished to a world where manners are an afterthought and casualness rules would be just as much a curse for her as anyone else. So, you see, ironic - it seems like a world I would have gladly run off to to escape _her_..."

"Yes. Ironic," replied August, not meeting her eyes. There was a pregnant silence between them until he finally looked back up at her. "So, uh, what's it like, suddenly waking up in your own future? I've always wondered what it would be like - I mean, can anyone say that the kid version of themselves wouldn't be disappointed in how they turned out in one way or another?" He'd often wished he'd have had the opportunity when he was still a kid. He liked to believe he wouldn't have abandoned Emma if he'd known the price she would pay for his freedom. Or better yet, simply not gone through the wardrobe. There was another part of him that was glad he'd never gotten that chance; he knew himself well enough to know he probably would have done both anyway. It was his nature, as Rumplestiltskin had said. He was the type who had to learn lessons the hard way. At least without foresight he could lie to himself - the only person he still lied to.

"Well... the last thing I remember I was seconds away from eloping with my true love, so this is about as far from what I envisioned as a girl as I could get. I'm not even in the same world! And I don't get to go back after this and fix it," she said solemnly.

"Still... it's kind of a new beginning. No matter how this plays out, you'll have had the chance to look at your life with fresh, objective eyes - you can pick and choose what you want to keep and what should change," August mused. He leaned in, just a hair's breadth outside Regina's personal space. "Sometimes, when I'm writing, I'll be following the narrative thread and then, suddenly, wham!" He slapped his fist into the palm of his other hand. "I find I've painted myself into the corner of a labyrinth of possibilities. Now, at that point I have one of two choices."

"I presume you're going somewhere with this?" prompted Regina, a bit puzzled by his random segue into allegory.

"Always," he replied with his trademark charmingly mysterious expression, honed over a lifetime. "I can either keep plowing ahead through walls of writers block and destroy the world I've been exploring. _Or_ I can follow my narrative thread back to the point of my very first wrong turn and start again. And if I choose a different, but just as wrong path, follow the thread back and try again until I get me and my characters to the ending the story was meant to have."

"I hadn't thought about it like that. Mostly, I've just been dwelling on everything I've lost." Regina was idly moving her spaghetti around its bowl, so missed the dark cloud pass over August's eyes at this remark. It was that kind of thinking that turned her down her dark path the first time, and something they were all going to have to guide her away from. Even if she got her memories back, he hoped the experience would change her for the better. He couldn't begrudge what had once been a kind woman a second chance, no matter what she'd done; not after he'd had more than his fair share of them. "Thanks." She gave him a small smile.

"Keeping that in mind is all the thanks I need," August replied. "You're gonna learn about your past one way or another, and I'm sure you've already realized it wasn't a bed of roses. It's tempting to just keep on your path rather than throw out page after page to start anew, but it's like trying to dig your way out of a hole - it only works if you cheat. What happened in the past never matters so much as the present, because it's the only time in which you have the power and the future is the only thing you have the power to change."

Regina nodded. "You sound like my father."

"Then you were lucky to have him," replied August, immediately wincing inside at his use of the past tense. Did she know? He needed to get an update from Emma. He cleared his throat and stood. "Are you, uh, finished there?" He nodded at her mostly empty bowl.

"I believe so. It was delicious, thank you." As August cleared their dishes, Snow, Emma, and David seemed to be finished as well.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" offered Regina.

Snow shook her head. "Oh, no. Thank you though," was her bemused reply. She thought back to their early days as step-mother and daughter, when Regina and Cora had moved into the palace.

* * *

_Regina sat at the King's side on a slightly raised dais, Snow to her left, just below. It had only been a few months but she adored her new stepmother. Regina had been kind, and once she'd gotten over what her father called homesickness, she'd even started to treat her like the earliest days, before Daniel had broken her heart._

_She couldn't say the same for her step-grandmother Cora, though. She reminded Snow of a poorly cooked tart - a warm, sweet, buttery crust, golden brown and inviting. But when you bit into it, the center was cold, raw, and bitter. She had dallied around in the kitchens, visiting the scullery girls, to know that a bad tart happened because someone had made the fires in the oven too large and hot, so the inside never got a chance to cook before the outside burned. When she'd shared this observation with Regina, her new mother had looked at her strangely. "You like to bake?"_

_Snow shrugged. "I'd like to learn... wouldn't it be ever so charming to be able to make a gift of pies and sweet breads for father's birthday ourselves? I should also like to be able to bake for __**my**__ true love one day..." _

_Again, the strange look, like she couldn't decide if she was sad, mad, or happy. "My mother would never allow you or I to engage in such a menial task, dear."_

_Snow looked at her, her brows knitted in confusion. "But you're Queen now. You can do as you wish, as long as father doesn't mind. And if it will make you happy and not so sick for home, he will not mind, I promise you!" _

_Regina's upper lip twitched at the last few words, but her glacial calm quickly returned and she actually looked hopeful. "But what about propriety?"_

_Snow shrugged. "My father has said more than once that he misses my mother's apple turnovers. And he did bring your apple tree as a wedding present..." Regina nodded._

_It wasn't long after that, that Regina had started doing as she was now at the end of big banquets. Snow looked up, watching as her stepmother neatly stacked her empty plates, five small ones in all, that had carried samples of desserts from each of the kingdoms of the realm that had dignitaries in attendance. She then folded her napkin into a small triangle and laid it atop the plates along with her silverware. Snow craned her neck up as best she could, trying to get a better look at her technique. She knew better than to stand - then __**everyone**__ in attendance would. When she felt she'd gotten the best look she could, she set to work, but was puzzled when it didn't look nearly as organized as Regina's. _

_She felt a light touch on her right shoulder and was surprised to see it was Regina. "Largest on the bottom, smallest on the top, in ascending order. Think of a tower. It's the only way to get a stable structure - otherwise you're just making their jobs harder," she instructed. Snow nodded and quickly reworked her plates. She nearly leapt out of her skin, though, as she felt fingers digging into her left shoulder this time. _

_Cora never seemed to realize how tightly she grabbed people, but the contact was thankfully broken when Snow looked to her. "You're a princess dear. Don't let my daughter's proclivities towards the provincial ruin __**your **__etiquette," she intoned, syrupy sweet. _

_Snow could feel Regina glowering down at Cora without even looking. She'd been stuck in the middle of these two before and it had never been pleasant when they clashed. Father had said grown mothers and daughters were like that and it shouldn't concern her - it didn't mean they didn't love each other. It was the first time Snow questioned her father's judgement. _

"_Have you not seen the many days and endless nights the staff have put in preparing to make this festival successful? From footmen to wait staff, none have slept more than a wink in days. __**What**__ is the harm in making their tasks a little easier? Is a Queen not supposed to be the gentle right hand of her King?"_

"_A queen is a mother to her kingdom - an example for all," Cora hissed. "We must all know our place, and you do them a disservice by coddling them. Those below us are there because their parents made nothing of their lives. And should they fail as well, the next generation will have their turn!" Snow cringed as she felt Cora's hot, moist breath on her cheek as the woman leaned closer, trying to scold Regina without drawing attention. _

"_The least among us deserve to be tested the harshest? How does that make any sense?" balked Regina. "If all you say is true, then I, as Queen, am __**your**__ mother now. And as you've always said, a lady __**always**__ obeys her __**mother**__." The final word poured forth from her mouth with the weight of the most vile epithet. _

"_You could never understand what I did to make sure you never lived that life you spo-"_

"_Cora! Please!" protested Henry meekly before his mouth seemed to snap shut of its own accord. It seemed to happen a lot, which puzzled Snow. Her eyes darted to her father's chair, but he was engrossed with his mingling with princes and ambassadors. _

_She took a deep breath, screwing up her courage before she turned to Cora. "Father says that we only truly have what we have given to those below us," she said in as low a tone as her child's voice would allow. She was pleased that it came out clear and true, betraying none of her nerves._

_Regina straightened up into a regal pose in her seat. "Well. That settles that now, doesn't it?" the Queen directed at Cora, a serene smile on her lips and a predatory glint in her eye as she returned to her task, sweeping up scattered crumbs from the tablecloth, into her napkin. "Thank you, Snow. You do your father proud," she added as an aside. Snow beamed at her stepmother, and quickly set to sweeping up her own flaky mess of pastry crumbs. Though they didn't speak the rest of the night, but she could feel Cora's eyes on her the remainder of the celebration. It made her stomach twist in strange ways she could not pin a word to; to want to shrink away and retreat to her rooms. Regina must have noticed because she reminded Snow of the horse, and that people only had as much power over her heart as she let them._

* * *

It had been a banner first year between them, despite the loss of Daniel, which made what happened later than much more painful and confusing; for Snow, at least. But she was beginning to believe it had been painful for Regina as well. She'd never understood as a child why Regina's mother seemed set on eliminating a behavior that was simply a kind gesture. Now, it was clear that she was trying to stamp out any shred of weakness in her daughter, and kindness to those on lower social rungs - in her eyes, it was the same rose of weakness simply called by another name. The sheer depressing nature of that saddened her. In a logical way it made sense after what she'd learned of the woman's past, but it didn't excuse what that evil witch had done. In a perverse way, she was grateful for having borne witness to it. She was finally starting to believe, in her heart of hearts, what everyone had always told her - that what Regina became, what she did, wasn't Snow's fault. Cora was the poisoned root. "Henry, why don't you show Regina where her things are and help her get settled in?"

"Okay," the boy replied, happy to have an excuse to get out of cleaning up. He looked at Regina. "We put your stuff upstairs."

"Lead the way, little knight," replied Regina. Henry raised his eyebrows. She hadn't used that moniker for him since he'd become sullen, and then openly defiant, as he pieced together the truth about Storybrooke. But when he was smaller, she used to put him to bed, wishing her 'little knight in shining armor' sweet dreams. When he'd finally asked why she called him that instead of honey or sweetie like other kid's moms, she had simply said that the day he came into her life was the day she'd been saved. He had been too young at the time to really grasp the meaning there and hadn't thought on it in a couple years, but he got it now. And he was surprised to realize how much he missed that.

As Henry pulled Regina upstairs and the boys cleaned up, Snow and Emma found themselves in relative privacy. Emma was working at pulling her hair back into some semblance of a bun, feeling the slightly more severe hairstyle gave her more weight as an authority in a room full of people who had sent her gold inlaid pacifiers and baby princess gowns, or _whatever_ it was that royalty did. Snow was fiddling with her own hair, using gel to tame unwanted flyaways. Her task done much more quickly, she sat on the edge of the tub. "So... you gonna tell me what's up?"

"Mare..." began Emma, pained, using the pseudo-nickname she had fallen into since the curse broke. It was _almost_ Mom, and with her father's name starting with a 'D', she'd rationalized she was halfway to calling them 'Mom' and 'Dad'. And Emma could admit she might be lying to herself, but she thought Snow not only didn't mind, but kind of liked it. Just like when she'd been Mary Margaret, Snow had an uncanny ability to follow Emma's thoughts before she'd voiced them. And while in that case, it was comforting, it also had its drawbacks. Now was one of those times.

"Rumplestiltskin... Gold... he somehow got his claws into your life out there in the real world, didn't he?" Snow asked quietly. Emma, not meeting Snow's gaze or even her own in the mirror was all the answer she needed. "Right. _So_... can I at least ask why you won't tell me?"

Emma sighed, sliding a pin into place behind her ear. "I... I don't know if I don't want to tell you for me or you or for..."

"All of us?" Emma nodded. "You're going to have to tell us eventually," Snow prodded gently.

"Not if I take a mallet to my head and forget everything like Regina," she replied in a dark humor.

Snow simply raised an eyebrow, letting her daughter get there at her own pace. For all her walls, Emma _did _want to share herself with others, but the circumstances of her life had taught her that every personal fact about herself she shared was another weapon to use against her later. As Emma had once said, not long after they met, _'Getting closer to someone just means they need a shorter knife.' _Pushing her would simply be seen as wanting to take a weapon with which to hurt her. Those people that showed no interest in stealing it from her, on the other hand, meant it was a blade far more likely to fight by her side, rather than one stabbed in her back. Trust was hard earned for her daughter - and another reminder of how she'd failed her child. "Well, Jefferson has those croquet mallets - we can ditch the meeting and try those out instead if you'd like," she joked quietly.

Emma smiled. She knew Snow, and Mary Margaret before her, had figured out a secret door to get past her walls. She couldn't quite figure out how, or what the woman did that was different, but for once, didn't mind. "Nah... knowing my luck, I'd just end up with a lumpy head." She bit her bottom lip, feeling like she was about to jump off a precipice. "Regina adopting Henry... that wasn't just a fluke. Gold brought him here."

Snow nodded. "Can't say I'm overly surprised. But that's not what's bothering you."

Emma shrugged. "Kinda, partly. See, I wasn't one hundred percent sure I was gonna give Henry up. And I was even less sure about a closed adoption. I thought about maybe being able to see the kid every once and awhile. You know, like birthdays or whatever. But then I get this offer... a good chunk of money if I gave him up through a private service, instead of a public one. Only caveat was that it was to be a closed adoption. And I figured, hey, at least I'd know he wouldn't grow up in the system like I did. And they obviously were well off to pay me thousands in cash..." She saw Snow's eyes flicker with guilt - a look she'd worn often since getting her memories back.

It was just another reason Emma didn't want to talk about this. She didn't like continually poking at that wound, making Snow feel guilty. But worse than that - she didn't like that seeing her parent's in pain made _her_ feel better because it meant they cared and suffered as much as she had. It was the worst kind of self-serving schadenfreude. Her speech began to speed up as uncomfortable feelings surfaced. "And I figured _that_ was his best shot. He'd have everything I didn't. He didn't ask to come into this world - I owed it to him to not be selfish. And when I got out of jail I'd have enough money to start a new life."

"Rumplestiltskin _bought_ him?" Snow felt a prickling behind her eyes that threatened tears. "God... Emma, honey, I'm so sorry." She had always assumed that her daughter had given up Henry purely because of her circumstances; that it was a choice. But, as it turned out, her options were no more equal than she and David's had been with Emma - all thanks to the schemes of one twisted little man.

"_Oh_, it gets better," replied Emma bitterly. "See... Henry's father..." She took deep breath, and closed her eyes, only to find that man's face on the back of her eyelids; a smug face that seemed perfectly designed to cradle her fist. Still, she'd rather focus on that than the flash of the night Henry had been conceived. She snapped her eyes back open before the fleeting thought took shape in her mind. "You remember I said he wasn't a good guy..."

Snow's eyes widened as what her daughter was implying fell into place. "I - I'm gonna kill him," Snow declared in a tone much like when she declared to Emma that she'd ruined her life by having affair with David. Disbelief and disgust.

"He didn't set that up, though. For once," added Emma. She didn't know why she was defending Gold; probably to calm the woman from marching straight to his shop half-cocked and doing something stupid.

"I don't care... I'm gonna kill him! I am going to find some dark fairy dust, turn him into the worm he is, and I'm going to grind him into paste under my boot heel," Snow concluded, in a tone more appropriate for discussing vacation plans. She froze and narrowed her eyes as she realized what Emma had said. "What do you mean 'didn't set it up'?"

"It just happened... I was a stupid kid, on my own for the first time. This handsome, charismatic older guy with a badass car and this heroic job... and he wanted _me_. Little orphan Emma."

"_Handsome_?!" exclaimed Snow. "He couldn't have had magic... did he drug you or something? Brainwash you? That man is many things, but handsome... in any traditional sense, anyway... that's _not _one of them."

Emma furrowed her brow. "How would you know what he looked like?"

Now it was Snow's turn to be puzzled. "Why wouldn't I know?"

"Mare... who do you think I'm talking about?" asked Emma slowly.

"Rumplestiltskin, of course."

Emma gave an involuntary shiver, her face screwed up in disgust. "Oh, God no!" she cried. "How could you think? With _him?_ And - and -" she finished her thought with a with a guttural noise of disgust. "I was young and stupid - not blind and crazy!"

"Belle obviously saw something in him," Snow reasoned.

"And she was in the nut house. Does Stockholm Syndrome mean anything to you?" exclaimed Emma.

"Only because Regina put her there."

"Weren't you just about to kill him a second ago?"

Snow shrugged. "She's not my kid, and more importantly, he didn't get her pregnant and take off with the baby after seducing her."

Emma shook her head. "God help you - if Gold is even flirting with me in my dreams tonight I won't rest until I put him in yours! It's bad enough he's -" She stopped herself short, suddenly focused on retwisting her hair hair at another attempt at a loose bun.

Snow cocked her head to one side, peering up from her seat. "Emma... who _is_ Henry's father?" She thought about the last thing they'd discussed in Gold's shop, holding out hope the two subjects weren't related.

"Well... I knew him as Bailey Fryer. But apparently..."

"Baelfire. Rumpelstiltskin's _son_?!" Snow exclaimed quietly.

Emma nodded. "Apparently the bizarre names are a family thing."

Snow sat, wide eyes blinking as she digested the implications. Emma half expected the other woman's eyes to turn into spinning hourglasses as she waited for a response. She huffed in frustration at her hair and let it fall loose over her shoulders.

Snow finally seemed to come back after nearly a full minute of silence. "And here I thought Cora was a nightmare of an in-law."

Emma raised her eyebrows sardonically. "_That's _what you're taking away from this conversation?"

Snow shook her head and stood up behind Emma. "That's what made you feel so ill," she observed as she gazed at the blonde's reflection from behind her.

Emma sighed and nodded in the affirmative. "The thought of a piece of that creepy gremlin inside me... it feeding off me... _loving_ it? He'd just shown us what a_ little_ of his blood did to Cora. And..." She let out a tense sigh. "Henry, Jefferson, and August all insisted I brought magic to Storybrooke - what if it was it dark magic? What if that's why I'm such a screw up?"

"You're not a screwup-" interjected, but Emma verbally steamrolledright over her.

And Henry's tendencies to scheme - he delights in his missions and nudging people in the direction _he_ thinks they should go... where else would he get that trait other than from Rumplestiltskin?" She felt the soft warmth of Snow's hands on her shoulder and couldn't help leaning ever so little into the touch as looked into the reflection of Snow's green eyes - green eyes that still amazed her with how much they resembled her own.

Snow's gaze was level at Emma and she flashed back to the first moments she'd known Regina, still sprawled across the grass as the woman helped her up. Only this time the look of fear was in her daughter's eyes. "First of all - he was raised around Regina. If anyone is to blame for his talent for scheming it's her. But so what if he does? He only uses it to help people. He's a good - no, _wonderful _kid - surrounded by people who love him; now even more than ever. Second of all - no - _you know what_? I don't even _have_ a second of all. He's a good kid. Be proud of that."

"Shouldn't Regina get all the credit for that too?" asked Emma in a small voice.

Snow tilted her head to one side, considering this. "Probably a lot of it. But not all of it. You know how many studies I remember reading that examine the theory of nature versus nurture in a child psychology class in college? Too many. And the one thing I _do_ know is that it's never one or the other. _You_ decided to give him his best chance. That took strength, Emma - if anyone would know, it's me. And I see that in him. He got that from _you_," Snow insisted.

"And you," replied Emma.

"Along with the mutinous hair," Snow replied with a shrug as she started to run her hand's through Emma's blonde curls, pulling them back behind her daughter's shoulders.

Emma raised an eyebrow, vaguely surprised at how natural this intimate activity felt. "The fates only give us hair as unruly as we have the strength to handle?" she remarked wryly.

Snow scrunched her nose up as she flashed an impish smirk. "Well... I didn't want to toot my own horn... but the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Really? Cause the more I get to know the new-old Regina, the more I'm realizing just how unlike her mother she was."

"Well... sometimes the tree's on a hill and the right apple can roll pretty far away."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "So, _when_ exactly did you go to college?" she teased.

"That's a lot more complicated than I think you realize."

"Try me."

"Well, let's see." She held out her thumb, pressing it with the index finger of her opposite hand as if to start counting off. "Had you asked me two weeks ago, I would have said I graduated in 2006. Ask me in 2006 I would have said I attended in the late nineties. I can remember watching the Berlin Wall coming down in my dorm room on that little tv." She hiked a thumb over her shoulder in the vague direction of the tv she kept on top of the kitchen cabinets.

Emma shook her head at the oddity of it all. "I remember sitting in a waiting room, watching that. All the adults were glued to their tv sets - I knew it was important, but I was just worried about getting my shots before I started school."

Snow studied Emma's face; stories about her childhood with any details were rare and she didn't want to miss a thing. "You were scared of needles?"

Emma laughed. "Uh, no. Not really. I was living with this hard-core health nut pair of foster parents. No sugar and all that. But I knew you got a lollipop at the end, so..." she smiled sheepishly.

Snow smiled sadly. "You were going into..." she quickly did the math in her head. "You were starting kindergarten?" She could feel her eyes getting watery again and took long controlled breaths, distracting herself by grabbing a few bobby pins from the sink's counter. "I can remember being home sick and watching it on tv when I was 7, too." She bit down on the pins, holding them at the corner of her mouth to free up her hands before beginning to gently work any knots out of Emma's hair and twist and pin sections.

"But you just said-"

"Part of the curse... I _think_ I was at Granny's for breakfast when it actually happened. It's the only version where I was the age I am now, and the first one. As far as I can tell, it only constructed fake memories of the past when they were needed. So, someone prompts you to recall a famous event, poof, it's there. Comes up again, it adjusts itself. I didn't recall the earlier versions of the memories at the time, of course. But now, with no curse to tidy it all up, it's like a montage of images - a scrapbook of cognitive dissonance."

"No wonder Jefferson went nuts," said Emma. "That would be crazy making for anyone ..."

"You wanna talk strange? I remember the _moon_ landing as a kid. That's from not long after we got here - must have been the 15th anniversary that triggered its creation. We were here by 1984, right?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I was born in 1983."

Snow peeked out from behind Emma's reflection to give her a pained smile before getting back to work keeping her hands busy. "So... yeah, it's been written over so many times with other childhoods that it's pretty dim, but it's there." She sighed. "But not a single memory of my family. To keep me feeling isolated, lonely, and weak, I guess," she observed, bitterness coloring her voice.

"Well, look at it this way. If you'd been some cheery little schoolmarm nun twirling through the forest singing about how the hills were alive with music, I don't think I could have stuck around long enough for us to become friends. Mary Margaret understood what it was like to have a soul that's a little... worn in. You were more like a... Mary Poppins."

Snow regarded Emma, puzzled but amused. "Ok, I'll bite. What on earth makes you compare me to her?"

"Well, you're great with kids. Having the same first name doesn't hurt - but more importantly, Mary Margaret wasn't a saint."

"I believe I said I was a schoolteacher, not a nun," rejoined Snow.

"And had a defiant streak with just a little taste for danger," Emma continued.

Snow raised a teasing eyebrow. "Oh, did she now?"

Emma shrugged. "I suppose that was, ironically, the Snow peeking through. And of course, Mary Poppins had a drifter chimney sweep, and Mary Margaret had a married amnesiac animal handler. Both just couldn't stay away from unavailable guys."

"Still, I suppose it would have been easier to believe I was Snow White if I was making dresses out of curtains and teaching Henry the lyrics to 'Edelweiss'," she joked.

"Well - it would have fit the whole Bavarian thing you had going in the cartoon," Emma teased back. "But then, Poppin's visited cartoon land too, didn't she?"

"We were never cartoons," Snow shot back.

"Would you know if you were?"

Snow rolled her eyes and gave Emma's hair a playful tug, which she answered with an elbow back into Snow's ribs."Besides, if _I_ was a cartoon character, so were you."

Emma grimaced. "Consider the charges dropped."

"I guess that means I win. Hmm. Well, you're too old to ground, but I'll keep turning your life into a saccharine musical in mind the next time I need to teach you a lesson," she replied.

"Please. I don't think _you_ could stand being around you in that state. Empty threats will get you nowhere."

"Still, that's kind of the point, isn't it?" asked Snow.

"Empty threats?"

"No. Not that... even with a lifetime of fake memories, I wasn't_ that_ different. Mary Margaret had simply never been tested - never found out what she was made of like I had to."

"I seem to remember two escape acts in one day - one from jail and one from a kidnapping, topped off with a karate kick that sent a madman through a plate-glass window that say otherwise," replied Emma.

Snow nodded. "Right. When you got here, the energy changed. The town started to wake up and become a _real_ world. One where life moves forward and lets people grow. When pushed, I stepped up._ That_ was nature conquering nurture. It's why I think I have every right to be proud of you - and _you, _Henry - and so on."

"Hm. I guess Makebelieve University _does _qualify you as much as real degree..."

"Well, I _do_ remember it. The nurses and doctors in Storybrooke Hospital wouldn't have been able to do their jobs if the curse didn't fill our heads with what we needed to fit into our new identities. Memories of home are clearer and more solidly real, of course. So, I don't think I can watch anything set in the middle ages, though. I grew up in too similar a world. I can already tell you, a castle is a lot darker than anything you see on the screen."

"Stick with fantasy, then. That's not supposed to be realistic," Emma replied.

"Are you kidding? That's worse! I think I got my first real taste of the Twilight Zone experience you must be going through every day when Gold showed up with Belle on his arm." She must have watched that movie a hundred times over countless rainy day indoor lunch hours and recesses and the idea that Belle was real had proven disconcerting on a gut level.

"She wasn't a princess you knew or something?" asked Emma.

"No. If the movie is anything to go by - which I trust as far as I can drive out of Storybrooke - her father was a minor noble, barely aristocracy at all, with rule over a middling city and its surrounding farmlands. There were far too many of those for me to know them all. It's not just people identified as fairy tales in this world that fell under the Queen's curse. Sidney was originally a genie from Agrabah - you know, Aladdin's home. Charming and I were fast friends with Lancelot. So anything about King Arthur is out."

"You knew King Arthur? Is he here in Storybrooke?" blanched Emma.

"I doubt it. I never met the man - he was in a very distant kingdom."

"So how did you meet Lancelot then?"

"He'd been exiled - his affair with Guinevere. She was his true love, but they only realized it when it was too late. He was basically a sword for hire when we met him - but his noble heart shown through. It's not hard to see when a man is looking for redemption." She shook her head, lost in memories. "He helped avenge David's mother's murder."

Emma's eyes widened, but she didn't press for more. This was the first conversation they'd had that felt as comfortable as the late nights she had spent with Mary Margaret curled up on the couch, talking over, more than watching, a cheesy movie and enjoying a glass of wine or cocoa.

"Anyway, I take it that Rumplestiltskin's son grew to take after his father after all?"

Emma nodded. "I don't know what I'm going to tell Henry..."

"You'll figure it out. You're his _mother_," she offered with a smile.

"Oh, no. You don't get to pull that phrase out on me this time," she declared good-naturedly. "_You're _his grandmother - _you're_ gonna_ help_ me figure it out."

Snow busied herself pulling errant strands of Emma's hair into place. "I... suppose I deserve that." She gave Emma a small smile that failed to hide her guilty feelings.

Emma reached back and stilled one of Snow's hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I was just kidding. You were just following your instincts as a mother - even if neither of us knew the truth yet." Snow bobbed her head, appreciating the sentiment, even if she wasn't entirely convinced. She had developed this irrational anger at Mary Margaret - even though she really did think of herself as being that person as well - for having the gall to lecture Emma about being a bad mother when she'd never even had kids. As much as some people expected teachers to be surrogate parents, she knew now that it was like comparing apples to oranges. "But don't go thinking that gives you the excuse to read me the riot act like a rebellious teenager again," Emma continued. "You know the truth now, so... fair warning," she added with a smirk.

"And I reserve the right to be terrible and overbearing if I think it's what's best for you, with the understanding that you're going to do what you want in the end," replied Snow back flippantly. "Fair warning."

"Well. I think we've taken the first steps toward a nice, normal Thanksgiving Day."

"Tense, awkward tiptoeing around sensitive subjects because we feel obligated to keep the peace on a day set aside for being thankful for what you have - and ending in a fight anyway?" replied Snow sarcastically.

"Hey - who are we to break tradition?" The pair shared a quiet laugh.

As the silence fell, a comment Emma made earlier came to mind. "Why does August need to go with you?"

Emma's mood sobered quickly. "Apparently, he knew Bailey as well and thinks he'll be of help. I'm going to have to miss the beginning of the meeting for that, by the way. I need to check out the info in the file Gold gave me on his son so I have some answers and a rough time table to present to the council. With Regina and everything else going on, I wanna have gameplan in place before we leave. Gold didn't give much in the way of details, so I don't have a clue as to the nature of that association was."

Snow shook her head slowly. She wanted more than anything to go in her stead, but even broken, the curse continued to punish, denying her even that. "Speaking of nature... I don't know if Blue made him a real boy by blood to Geppetto, but he's certainly picked up his propensity for dishonesty."

"Oh, he's about to get an earful from me."

"Then I trust he'll be sorry," replied Snow brightly.

"I need to ask a favor of you, though," said Emma.

"Anything. You know you only need to ask."

"Right... can you be the one to tell David about Henry's father - after I leave? I know no father likes to pretend that his little girl has ever been touched by a guy, and obviously, because of Henry knows I'm no unspoiled flower..."

"But meeting the guy who knocked her up and disappeared is another matter entirely," supplied Snow, ending Emma's dance around the subject. She groaned. "Alright. But I can't guarantee he won't give the guy a pounding."

"Not that I wouldn't like to see it, but can't you just make him give you his word that he won't? Gold is on a hair trigger when it comes to his son. God only knows what he'd do."

"He never breaks his word, but that's because he never makes promises he's not sure he can keep. So... maybe, maybe not. Now... if a certain blonde that has him wrapped around her finger were to ask him to promise to it for _her_ and a certain mop-topped scamp, I'd say the odds are pretty good..." Snow prodded.

Emma echoed her mother's earlier groan and buried her head in her hands, fingers twisted in the golden locks now pulled loosely flush against her scalp. "Okay, okay. After Henry goes to bed tonight. And August isn't here."

Snow smirked. "Safety first."

"Then there's still the Regina thing to worry about..."

"On both counts," She added as she slid a final pin to Emma's hair. "Voila." She stepped back to examine it. "Not as good as I used to be able to do, but not bad for being 28 years out of practice, if I may say so. I'd forgotten how much work all that hair is. I was considering growing it back out, but I may have to think twice about that."

Emma examined herself in the mirror, pulling open the mirror door of the medicine cabinet to get a look at the back. Her brows shot up in surprise as she saw that Snow had managed to not only tame her mane of curls but weaved it into two concentric braids that interwove with each other. These formed a bun, set low on the back of her head, with about five inches of the ends of her hair spilling out the top like a waterfall. It somehow managed to be simultaneously elegant and casual. "Wow," was she said at first. She turned around to Snow. "You call this out of practice?"

"I took longer than I used to back home on hair nearly twice as long as yours."

"Whose was that? Rapunzel?!" replied Emma incredulously.

Snow chuckled. "No, no. Mine. Regina's."

Emma blinked. "I... can't picture that at all."

"It was just like the book," offered Snow.

"Not the same... so if everyone had shorter hair here, what was Red's? Like, down to the floor?"

Snow shook her head. "No. It was basically the same. But wavy. I think she flat irons that out now."

"What could you two possibly still be doing in there?" David's voice rang out. "I refuse to believe either of you could possibly get more beautiful."

Emma and Snow exchanged a roll of their eyes, but turned to leave anyway. "Too many more lines like that and I'm changing your name from Charming to Cheeseball," Snow replied, giving him a peck on the cheek as she sidled up next to him.

"I'll second that motion," added Emma.

"We're not at the meeting yet," replied David. "But I shall take the right honorable ladie's opinions under advisement."

Henry and Regina were coming downstairs at this point, loaded with clothes and linens. Emma shook her head at the sight of her son's eyes barely even peeking over a stack of Regina's clothes - not to mention through his shaggy hair hanging over his eyes. "You're gonna break your neck, kiddo," remarked Emma. "Here, give me those," she said, quickly making her way up the stair and snatching the top of pile. "When was the last time you got a haircut, anyway?" she asked as she placed the pile on the couch, Regina placing her load of sheets and blankets next to it.

Henry shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "I dunno... when was Ms. Blanchard arrested?"

Snow shook her head. "That's it, you're getting a haircut."

"What if I wanna grow it out like a real knight?" asked Henry, testing the waters.

"Well, unlike the movies, most knights in our realm kept it short - don't want to give your opponent an extra handhold if you don't have to, after all," David explained.

Henry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hm, I guess not."

"Do we know if Gustav is still operating the salon?" asked Snow, receiving shrugs from all. "Well, mental note, I guess." She turned to Regina. "Are you sure you're going to be okay here alone with Henry?"

Regina nodded. "I don't expect we'll be up to much. But between Henry's knowledge of this world and my judgment, I think we're equivalent to one fully functional adult."

Emma gave Henry's shoulder a quick squeeze and Regina a nod. "August and I won't be long. Later, kiddo." August, Snow, and David added their goodbyes, Henry waving after.

Regina examined what Emma had done to her hair as the blonde made her way out the door. She'd never seen anyone else wear their hair that was her signature updo for formal functions._'Did I teach her that?' _No, they had clearly met as adults and grown women don't teach each other how to braid hair. But mothers and daughters do. _'Was it Snow White?' _Had she helped raise the woman now taking _her_ in like a lost orphan?Once they were gone she looked down at the boy she knew _had _been her son. "So, what did we used to do - when it was just us?"

Henry smiled broadly up at her. "Did they have board games in the Enchanted Forest?"

"You mean like Chess?"

"It's called Stratego. It's kinda like chess. But more fun and with armies," Henry explained, tugging a red box off a shelf.

"Why do I get the feeling you're setting me up to fail?" asked Regina with good natured suspicion. "Alright, so how do we play?"

"You conquer the world." He had said it with jovial nonchalance, but the words sent a chill down her spine she couldn't explain.

* * *

**A/N: **If you have a moment, let me know if you enjoyed your fluff, because things are about to get heated... :)


	15. Nature's Better Angels

**Author's Notes: ***static crackle* Uuuh... this is your, uh, author speaking. You may have noticed a delay in updates. My schedule has been experiencing some, uh, turbulence, thanks to starting a new job just over two weeks ago. If you look out the nearest window you may also notice that fall is coming, and that means magic is too, on Sept. 30th. While I think I'll finally have time to get real writing in again now, clearly I'm not going to meet my goal of finishing this before the new season begins. In any case, thank you for your reading patronage. I know you have a choice of authors from which to get your fanfic fix, and hope you will continue to read along after the new season starts. *the clattering plastic sound of a headset being put down* *static crackle*

Right. So, I'm in the Dr. Whale is Frankenstein camp, but we'll see in 2 days! Anyway, made him someone else, hope you like it, or at least find it plausible.

**Reviews: **Thanks again to everyone who took the time. You make my day, **plasticbarbie4life14****, South. For. Winter, Once. Evil. Regal, SkullGauddess, ****Demon ninja of the leaf****, ****Anonymous Nerd Girl****, swanloves**!

**Demon ninja of the leaf - **The whole age thing has been rather nebulous, and we know from show dialogue (with Maleficent in 1x02) that Snow 'got the better' of Regina when she was the same age that Regina was when Daniel died. Now, clearly she's not 19 on the show, and personally, I'm squidged out by the idea that Emma is older than her parents. Plus all the actors say she's the "same age" as her parents. Since Maleficent was the same age as Regina when Sleeping Beauty defeated her, I think the writers have created a nice symmetry there. Therefore, I prefer to think Regina was in her mid-20's. Anyway, just my logic there :)

* * *

**Chapter 15: Nature's Better Angels**

As the bell jingled to announce their arrival at Granny's diner, Emma glanced at the wall clock hanging above the counter. They weren't late - five minutes early in fact. Yet everyone - even the notoriously tardy, and exhausted new father, Prince Thomas - had beaten them there. The boisterous discussion they'd heard on approach had broken into electric silence with the entrance bell's jingle. Emma crossed her arms and leaned her hip against a booth as Snow, David, and August made their way in behind her. The tension seemed to impede any speech, creating an awkwardly unintentional stand-off. Emma raised an eyebrow. If there was one thing she knew it was how to break tension in a hostile household. "So... is someone gonna pop up and you all yell surprise, or what?"

Granny appeared out of the kitchen at this moment, a tray carrying four mugs in hand. "Surprise," she offered sardonically. Not for the first time, pre and post curse, Emma was grateful for Granny and Red. They seemed to be the only two people in Storybrooke, of those who had lost their memories, that had retained any real backbone. Knowing what she did now, she figured it must be the wolf's blood in their veins, but the reason didn't really matter.

Although not particularly funny, nor light hearted, the remark seemed to grease the social wheels enough to make way for a few chuckles. Still, everyone present seemed at a loss for finding an opening word. Emma continued doggedly throwing jokes. "Don't tell me we've missed deciding who weaves the rope for the noose? 'Cause I was totally going to nominate Rapunzel. She's gotta be good at braids and knots, right?"

"The kid is still carrying a massive case of agoraphobia, sister," replied Grumpy. "Seems spending the first half of her life locked away and trying to get out, and the second half too afraid to leave don't mix well when it all comes back." While the only voting members of the council were rulers from their homeland, it had been decided that prominent figures and trusted advisors from every faction should at least be able to voice their opinions as advisors. The dwarves had sent Grumpy, and the Blue Fairy spoke for her kind, but the man who had been Dr. Whale had been quite a leap for Emma when he'd been nominated.

She knew Huckleberry Finn as a precocious boy who had led a slave to freedom. But, just as Huck had rejected his 'conscience' and helped the slave Jim to his freedom, the grown-up Finn, while Dr. Whale, had freed himself from reporting everything to the Mayor a few weeks after David had awoken from his coma. It wasn't much, but reporting every movement of a patient to someone who wasn't even family seemed wrong, somehow and he'd felt he needed to take a stand. As the only person who had known, and treated, nearly every child in Storybrooke, David had thought him a useful asset for the council, what with his knowledge of not just medicine, but most families of the town. The tipping point on bringing him in had, ironically, come from Snow.

Having worn the identity of a teacher for almost three decades, she knew his story well, and trusted the boy-who-would-be-a-doctor as such. One night stands aside, the guy had ultimately been looking for a mother figure from her. When he'd been Huckleberry Finn, he'd been taken in by the Widow Lucas and become close to the family, and by proxy, Snow. She would be forever grateful to the young man who had become something like a brother to her - but more importantly, had helped heal Red's heart. He was the first man she had let into her heart after Peter, but events had stood in the way of their relationship really developing. He and Snow hadn't talked about their time together as Mary Margaret and Dr. Whale. They hadn't talked at all since then, despite Red making it clear she didn't hold their one night stand against her. Calling things awkward was an understatement, but she wasn't going to let that stand in the way of what he brought to the table. She just hoped that at some point, he and Red would get a second chance.

David held his ground at the center of the counter's half-circle and crossed his arms. "This town is far smaller than our homeland and I know you have phones." Without discussion, all knew what this meeting would be about. "But before we begin, I should like to hear the rumors first."

The gathered nobles exchanged furtive glances.

"Everyone knows what happened today," Red supplied as she too emerged from the kitchen. She locked eyes with Snow, silently reminding her of their discussion a few hours earlier.

King Midas nodded at this and stood. "Clearly, something has changed. However, the question remains - what?"

The gathered had rearranged the diner's tables and chairs to frame the front counter and Snow moved to the center of it, David at her side. She drew herself to her full height, firmly setting her weight into her heels as if confronting an invading horde. David folded his arms, and despite standing just behind her, his stance made it clear that anyone present would have to get through him before getting to his wife. "That's still to be determined," answered Snow.

"But it's under control," added David.

"_What_ is under control?" demanded Midas.

"The Evil Queen," answered Snow.

As Emma watched from the sidelines she couldn't help the small swell of pride in her chest at the display, despite knowing that should anything _actually _get out of hand it would fall to her to restore the peace. Nonetheless it was a window into the people her parents had been - where she'd come from - and validated every impulse towards obstinance she'd ever felt in herself. Even if it wasn't something she was ready to verbalize to the pair.

"Then why is half the town hiding in their homes?" demanded King Francis. "Are our people justified in their fears or not?" It may have been 28 years, but the disappearance of his son at the hands of Rumpelstiltskin, because of a plan cooked up by Snow and David, was still raw with his newly restored memories.

David's features were set hard, like stone. The guilt of losing Prince Thomas, just before he was to be a father, and Ella's grief, weighed heavily. He couldn't blame the King for his skepticism. "Yes and no." A murmur of dissent rumbled.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" challenged Thomas. "I will not leave my family unprotected again." Though he was sympathetic to his friend's concerns, he had been a new father for too short a time as well; the prince was showing his youth in his temper and David knew Thomas would need to be reined in soon.

The murmurs came to a rolling boil, and Emma had taken a couple steps forward before the Blue Fairy appeared from the back room of Granny's. "It's complicated," the former nun announced. "Regina appears to have used the return of magic to her own ends."

"There's a shocker," remarked Red.

"So she plans to imprison us in false memories again?" Abigail surmised.

Blue shook her head. "No... the motives behind her actions remain clouded, but the result is indisputable."

"The result being...?" asked Ariel.

The Blue Fairy moved to stand beside Snow and David, albeit on the inside of the counter, and planted herself there; leaning forward as she planted her hands in front of her. "Much as we've all seen or heard, she is no longer the Evil Queen." The rumble of dispute was immediate and vocal.

"So I suppose it was some clone trumpeting a crow to the Lost Boys this afternoon," stated Midas.

"Of course not," Blue rejoined. "But it was not the same Queen who cursed us here." The gathered rulers' puzzlement was spread equally across the board, so she continued. "Something has bound her memories - and more importantly, her powers."

"She's been stripped of magic?" asked Red. She knew the woman's memory had been erased, of course, but the state of her magic was news. There was an odd hope in her heart that being exiled to this world might at least rid her of her curse, and the anticipation of an answer was maddening. If Regina could banish her own magic, surely it was possible to cage the wolf as well.

Blue shook her head. "We cannot strip magic here any more than we could have created it without Rumplestiltskin's potion."

"How does that make any sense? Use _your _magic to banish _her_ magic!" cried King Francis.

"Magic don't just disappear," replied Grumpy, his tone making it clear he couldn't believe a King could be such an ill-informed dolt. "Even when folks die, it goes into something. How do you think our crystals were infused with pure magic? Where did you think fairy dust comes from?" He rolled his eyes at the blank looks at least half of those present gave him. It was typical, he decided; royals taking for granted even the most precious things in their lives and not caring enough to learn where it came from.

"Just as dinosaurs became oil in this worlde" offered Jiminy, and the analogy based in the science of this world seemed to explain things well enough to the ignorant ones.

"I don't see how this changes anything. If she were executed the magic would simply do what it's alway done, wouldn't it?" asked Midas.

"Magic was native to our world; part and parcel to all things. When a being died, the magic simply returned to the earth, much like energy is stored in the decayed bodies of animals a million years dead," replied Blue, nodding at Grumpy. "But there's no way of knowing what will happen in this land. I have heard that in other realms without magic, the release of a magical being's essence wrought havoc and destruction - we have no way of knowing what the consequence will be here."

"Havoc and destruction?" asked Emma. "What does that even mean?"

"Instead of returning to the earth, the magic transfers to other beings. Like a virus, it infects non-magical beings and the results aren't pretty. Whether dark or light, when a mortal receives magic they weren't meant to have, they will manifest powers."

"The problem being?" asked Emma. As much as having powers foisted on her would add just one more reminder that Henry had been right all along - and pretty much condemn any hope for a normal life to death - even she had to admit having them to protect her family with would be worth it.

"It doesn't stop there. The... energy, if you will, is unstable. At first, the powers simply spread like a mist, infecting those who pass through the area. And they will manifest abilities as any of our world would. But in those worlds where there has _never_ been magic... as it melds with the natural energy of their world it becomes too much."

"Too much?" asked Snow.

"Yes. Everything destabilizes. Powers amplify and destabilize the physical matter around it - including the being housing them. When that being is destroyed the process begins again. And ultimately..."

"Everyone is destroyed," finished Emma. "But Gold brought magic here. I'm failing to see the difference between this and a land with magic."

"From what little information he had provided the difference is still clear. He used the waters of Nostros to return what had been lost. Only those who had magic have regained it. No non-magical being has been infected."

"But the waters themselves are magical, and here, integrated into this world," replied August. He didn't generally speak up at these things, but this was one subject close to him. "Wouldn't that mean that this world has, or had, magic?"

"It _is _supposed to bring back something lost. And you have to have something in order to lose it," Snow noted.

"Or it could simply act as any other magical item that had been brought here and use itself up. Without a way to test it, there is no knowing the consequences of what will happen upon Regina's death. Or that of any _other _magical being." The Blue Fairy paused, letting the concept sink in.

"So... we're screwed," replied Emma

"Not necessarily," Blue replied.

"And we test this _how_?" the blonde remarked incredulously.

"Small tests can be undertaken. Magical animals - should they be... 'released' from this world..." she sighed, "in close proximity to other animals of the same species, what happens will tell us what we need to know. Again, magic is much like a virus here. It will jump between animals, but not humans. Pongo or Abu would be excellent test subjects. "

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Magical animal testing? Great. And what's to stop the spread of this magical self-destruct button from spreading across the globe?"

"As I said - it can only be passed to another being close to the host's genome. Eventually there would be no more Storybrooke, and should Rumplestiltskin decide to take down the barrier..." she paused and let loose a painful sigh. "Even if it passed only between animals it would only take a few months to infect every one of them in this realm."

"And?" demanded Grumpy.

"We'd still be alive, for a while, but our lives depend on the cycle of those lower than us on the food chain," replied Granny. When the council had been formed earlier in the week Emma had been skeptical of the 'advisors' Snow and David had brought on. After all, the versions of Grumpy, Red, Granny, and even Jiminy, she'd grown up hearing stories about had been naive people who couldn't see past their small corner of the world. But she had to admit that they not only brought perspective, but also offered genuinely useful observations - often more astute than the royals who had been born to their positions of power.

"We're talking about the destruction of this entire world," added Red, seeing her Granny's line of thought. "When any magical creature dies, they return to the earth as pure magic. That magic feeds later generations, starting the cycle again. It's the circle of life, like any world." Silence was the response. "Seriously? Did none of you see 'The Lion King'?" She shook her head. "If magic isn't of this world, then we'll be throwing the ultimate monkey wrench into the system. We'd be worse than the Evil Queen... we'd be destroying an entire world."

"But when Rumplestiltskin brought magic to this world, did he not, therefore, make it _of_ this world?" asked Abigail.

The Blue Fairy's shoulders dropped at this and she drew in a steadying breath. "We don't know," she finally said, and the reaction was as she feared. The diner broke out into heated discussion, accomplishing nothing as rulers clashed in support or dismissal of the fairy. All in attendance had come to expect clear and easy answers from her race, but their perspective was a faulty one. Issues had been just as grey in their world, the difference was simply that thanks to magic, fairies had always magical foresight - and time - to research and develop a game plan. But in Storybrooke, they had been just as blindsided as anyone else and catching up would take time. While_ that_ reality would eventually resolve itself as time went on, their current inability to point to the best path was causing some to call their integrity into question. Had the fairy's guidance always been blind guesses? The people's trust in fairy wisdom had been wounded when it was revealed that Blue had lied about the wardrobe, and this would only further strain things.

Suddenly an ear-splitting whistle sliced through the noisy debates. To Blue's surprise, it was Pinnochio. She hadn't had much interaction with the man since the curse was broken, but she couldn't blame him for the resentment he seemed to carry. She had let Gepetto talk her into actions that not only stripped two children of the families they should have had - but placed an unreasonable amount of responsibility on a small boy, setting him up to fail and lose his life as well as his father. "The fairies aren't to blame for this - we should be focusing on the real issue here!" he declared. Blue couldn't help but be surprised at his defense of them.

"Says the boy created by them!" shot back King Francis. August rolled his eyes, but didn't engage.

"That doesn't change the fact that he's right," declared Emma. "They're working - finding out what they can. In the meantime, can we get back to what we _can_ answer?" She nodded at David and Snow, indicating they should take the lead.

"As you all know, something has happened to Regina," Snow began.

"Indeed," replied Midas. "I should like to know why she is being permitted free reign of Storybrooke. The agreement had been house arrest for herself and her henchmen until Rumplestiltskin and what he's unleashed is settled."

King Eric nodded. "And whether we can get home. It's bad enough 'Stiltskin is still roaming free."

"How are our subjects to feel safe when Regina is free to roam without so much as a guard tracking her movement?!" said King Francis.

"I've had call after call this evening, demanding answers," said Prince Thomas. "Never mind the text messages. A few have even claimed they saw her use magic to attack the Sheriff and Queen Snow." He turned to the two women. "Is this true?"

"In the strictest sense... yes," replied Snow. Another rumble of murmurs threatened to break into argument, so she pressed on quickly. "But she didn't do it on purpose."

"I thought you said she lost her powers?" replied Abigail.

"They are bound, as I said," offered Blue, "But the bonds are fragile."

"Who did it? Rumplestiltskin?" asked King Midas.

"We're fairly certain she did it to herself," said Snow.

"Why the hell would she do that?" puzzled Grumpy. "Last thing I'd expect that witch to do is leave herself defenseless."

"Perhaps as a gambit - thinking that if she punishes herself we won't prescribe one?" said King Francis.

"Well, if she thought this trick would save her, she was extraordinarily mistaken," added Prince Thomas.

"C'mon - do you really think Regina would leave herself defenseless on purpose? She knows Rumpelstiltskin has his magic," replied Finn. "This is the same woman who had built a network of informants. I know Jiminy and I weren't the only people she had manipulated into reporting to her - even against our better judgement." Jiminy nodded in agreement.

"Who cares how it happened?" said Grumpy. "The dame is harmless now. I know I'd be buying her a drink for the favor, if she wasn't... _her_."

"The who and why matter because she hasn't just bound her powers," explained Blue. "She's bound every memory of the Evil Queen as well."

"Wait - so, what? She has the memory of a fetus?" replied Grumpy.

"She wasn't_ born_ evil," Snow snapped back, surprised at the defensiveness in her voice.

"No one is born evil," said Blue. "Evil is made."

"I still fail to see how this matters - aside from the fact that we needn't worry over her pulling any tricks to keep her from being brought to justice!" exclaimed Midas. He was generally a reasonable man, but knowing what she'd done to his daughter in this world, his anger failed to give quarter to that woman.

"Damn right," added Grumpy. "She's got blood on her hands - I don't care if she can remember it or not!" Almost everyone present murmured sounds of agreement.

"And I suppose when you're done with her you'll be stringing up Red and myself?" remarked Granny in dangerous tone.

Grumpy shook his. "It's not the same thing."

"Oh yes it is," Snow snapped back. Her friend's guilt and the pain of it was well hidden to most present, but Snow knew her friend too well. No mask could hide Red's feelings from her. She shot the young woman a sympathetic look before continuing. "By that logic, Red and Granny should be punished for all the blood on their hands."

"Paws," replied Grumpy.

"This is no time for jokes," replied David darkly.

"No joking here. None of those people died by their hands. They died at the paws and jaws of a beast. Red's not herself in the wolfstime, and Granny don't even change anymore. Not to mention, it's a curse they never wanted," he explained and offered a small shrug of apology to Red. "But Regina _made _those choices. You can't just excuse that! What's gonna stop her from turning back into that evil witch?"

Snow leveled a hard gaze at the dwarf. "I'm surprised by you Grumpy. I would have thought you to be one of the few people to understand."

He scowled. "I've never killed nobody. Not no innocents, anyway - guards don't count."

"No. But I have." This revelation caught a good chunk of the room by surprise. "Or at least I would have, if I hadn't been blessed with the love of honorable friends. But the murder had already been committed in my heart."

"You talking about your dark period? Your heart had died with that potion. Anyone who's had their ability to love snuffed ain't the same person," said Grumpy, crossing his arms in a defiant posture. "Even then, you still don't just up and forgive 'em!" he huffed.

"You did, me," replied Snow.

"But you're _you_. And she's _her_," he insisted.

"And she was once a good person. I owe her my life... more than once over. Even _after_ I had accidentally cause her heart to be broken, she saved my life again. Where do you think I learned the values of love, honor, and integrity from? The very qualities that I built _our _friendship on?" Snow shook her head. "You forgave me without hesitation for the awful way I treated you." The dwarf set his jaw obstinately but didn't respond. "Regina's heart was taken from her just as mine was."

"But your's was restored. Just because the witch can't remember anything doesn't mean she still has a heart," said Prince Thomas. He, more than most present, knew of the consequences of Snow's dealings with Rumplestiltskin, thanks to her and David's assistance in setting a trap for the imp.

"As has hers," replied Blue. Looks of surprise were exchanged across the room. "I examined her today, and the magic of the water of Nostros was clearly present, though I don't know yet what she was trying to restore. But I _do_ know that although magic may work in mysterious ways, it always works as it should. This world needs different things than our homeland did - _that's_ why magic seems so unpredictable now. In this case, it created a new heart for her; made up of its magic woven with that of another kind. It may be new and fragile, but it _is_ a heart. And none of it dark."

"She's regained her conscience?" asked Jiminy. His lifetime raising Gepetto and then Pinocchio had taught him the fungibility of the human heart when it came to morality. Further, his years in Storybrooke had been the first time in his life he'd ever had to live independent of the burdens of family obligation, and while he was proud of ultimately taking the righteous path, he had strayed under Regina's influence. Living so long as a cricket had distanced himself from the human experience, just like fairies and dwarves. He supposed it had its usefulness for all good magical beings - giving them perspective from humanity, allowing them to guide their charges with clear vision - but it also had its drawbacks. Without passion, one may lose the ability to persuade a person too emotionally intertwined with the things they love or hate. A plea for altruism rarely rings true to those people. The nature of redemption was a hotly debated topic among those who were charged to guide, but he could no longer even humor the supposition that some people were irredeemable. With a town full of people with regrets about how they behaved under the curse, their happiness ripped away just like Regina's had been, they should find it easier to forgive a desperate soul. He could only hope others might understand that as well - even if Regina was the caster of the curse.

"More like the tarnish has been removed," she replied. "With a whole heart, and the cleansing fire of genuine guilt and regret that comes with it, the stains may be wiped away, and a soul can shine brightly once more."

"Screw that - I say we use real fire," proclaimed Grumpy.

"How can you not understand this?" asked Snow.

"I understand that witch hurt everyone I care about. There's a point where you can't just forget that."

"But perhaps you can forgive," said Snow, making it clear it wasn't a question but a suggestion weighted by their fondness for each other, and mutual debt to the other.

Grumpy scowled and harumphed before landing his rear loudly into a booth bench in the back. He resembled every pouting child she'd ever had to discipline during her 28 years teaching and she would likely have chuckled under different circumstances. At the moment she was simply glad to get Grumpy's version of reluctant agreement.

The clatter of a chair being kicked back and tumbling across the tiles cut Snow's satisfaction short, however. "I will _not _let this stand! Regina shall pay for her heinous crimes!"

"Calm yourself, Midas!" replied David hotly.

The former king slammed his fist down, smashing it into the small square table in front of him, sending cutlery tumbling noisily to the floor. "She _kidnapped_ my _**daughter! **_She likely would have _killed_ her, had it served her purpose!" he roared.

"And I'll likely kill you if you destroy any of my property!" growled Granny, who had crossed the room in a flash. "Gods know, I have enough wobbly tables in this place - so calm yourself before I do it for you!" The old woman may no longer be able to change into a wolf, but when pushed, seemed just as big _and _bad.

Despite being nearly two heads taller, the man took a step back. "Watch yourself, widow," he finally said.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be taking your own advice?" retorted Red, the air of anger in her voice making it clear she wouldn't stand for him threatening her grandmother. The silence of the rest present made it clear that if he had supporters, they weren't fervent enough to go up against the lupine women.

Despite this, Midas' rage was still barely in check. He made a move to stare the old woman down - he was, or had been, a king after all, and deserved the respect that came with that - but a hand grasped his forearm. The blonde hair in his peripheral vision told him who it was even before she spoke, and he halted. "They are not the enemy, father." As he opened his mouth to speak, she tightened her grip, turning him to face her.

Abigail's eyes held an expression far from the fear or anger he'd expected to see. "Yes, she was responsible for doing a horrible thing to me - and all of us - but we will get no more out of acting on blind revenge than she did. You reap what you sew, father. You've seen what it cost us, but _I've_ seen what it cost her. Every attempt to make another suffer only added to her own." The last time she'd addressed him like this was when she had made the case that she should be allowed to marry Sir Frederick. "Just as you were cursed as a result of your greed and shortsightedness," she continued, much quieter now. It was a highly taboo subject in their family. "Regina was cursed by her inability to forgive or let go. But still, even in her darkest times, she resisted killing if she had the option. Perhaps I'm being naive, but the fact remains that she's spared far more people than she's killed."

"To extend their torture," interjected Phillip. "That's hardly kind. That's worse."

Abigail shook her head. "As I said. She's afraid to let go. She may tell herself it's to extend their suffering, but in truth, I think she's using that excuse because she's afraid of what will happen when she runs out of people to hate."

"Since when do you know the Queen so well?" asked Finn.

"I didn't. But I got to know the Mayor. And _that_ Regina was lonely, friendless, and bitter. But I know in my gut that much of the woman I knew was the real thing - a tactic for manipulating me - but more genuine than I think she realized."

Blue nodded. "An empty heart seeks to fill itself with whatever it can find. In the case of those who don't believe they deserve love, such as Regina, they fill it with loathing and hate."

Abigail turned to face her father and took his hands, lifting them up gently, her fingers intertwined with his. "And for all the evil she did to me, she also gave me the greatest gift I have ever received." She swirled her thumbs over the tops of his hands. His _bare_ hands. Just as Jiminy was no longer a cricket, fairies didn't have wings, and August wasn't a wooden man, so too had Midas lost his golden touch. Storybrooke had apparently acted as a reset button for magic."To know the touch of my father. The soft fingertips of his strong hands; the warmth of his lips on my cheek." She sighed. "If the evil witch is gone, then I cannot seek revenge on a woman who has not done those things. It would be no more justified than her cursing everyone, in all the realms, for an injustice she blames on Snow." She smiled sadly. "I choose to focus on the blessed second chance she's inadvertently given you, and cannot begrudge her the same chance of fate."

Jiminy cleared his throat and turned to address the assembled."Every resident in this town has something or other they regret. If _they _may ask for forgiveness for those deeds, and we can forgive them, then who among us can, in good conscience, deny the same to Regina?"

There was more murmuring among the assembled. Questions of how they were to enforce a ban on attacking the former queen, or why they should bother if they're just going to punish her once the fairies restored her memories, seemed to dominate the conversation.

Emma finally started knocking her knuckles on the countertop, in imitation of a gavel. "We're not asking you to forgive her. Just... don't kill her. Don't hurt her. And make sure your people don't either," she explained.

"Isn't that supposed to be _your_ job?" replied King Francis dubiously. While he wasn't outright hostile, he was clearly frustrated.

Emma crossed her arms. "Yeah, but - I'll be leaving sometime in the next couple days." The noise resumed, more agitated than before.

"You're going to run and you expect _us _to stay and live with the witch?!" exclaimed Midas.

Emma's eyes grew hard. "I don't like it any more than you - you think I wanna leave my son behind in what amounts to a war zone?! But I owe Gold a favor."

Francis scowled at the Blue Fairy. "You call this girl the Savior, yet she consorts with an evil witch, and makes deals with the Dark One!"

"To save _your _granddaughter!" Emma snapped back. "_That _is why I made that deal. And why was I forced into that situation? Oh, right, Alexandra was only in danger because of a deal _you_r family struck!" She shrugged in feigned indifference, but her eyes flashed with frustration. "Of course, if you wanna give her back to Gold, it's no skin off my nose! And you'll save me a hell of a lot in gas money!"

Francis' mouth snapped shut. He was clearly feeling properly chastised, but still wanted to argue. Prince Thomas placed a hand on his father's shoulder, looking far more resolute than the older man. "And for that, Ella and I - and my _whole_ family are in your debt to you.: Francis broke his stare down of Emma and took his seat again.

"You would let her work with the imp responsible for your disappearance?" asked the former king, Eric, dubiously. The news of what had happened to the prince who married a peasant had spread fast in a land where happy endings were the rule.

"If I thought that the case, I would have left in protest by now. But the sheriff is the daughter of Snow and David. She would never help him - not truly - if it weren't for the best of everyone one in this town in the long run. Victory over an adversary is determined many moves before the final checkmate." He turned to the couple in question. "And just as Abigail said, Regina's curse had more unintended consequences, good ones, than she ever planned on. Were it not for the curse, I would still be separated from my family. Coming to Storybrooke freed me from my imprisonment and reunited me with my wife and child. So... perhaps I can repay that by ensuring Regina gets proper and fair justice for her crimes. At the very least, I owe my friends and their daughter - the woman who saved my daughter and then all of us - the courtesy of granting their request."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Does anyone else have anything to say on this subject?" asked David. The resigned silence continued and he nodded his head. "Right. Well, I have one last word before asking for resolution. I despise the Evil Queen as much as any of you here. Midas - I am at once guilt-ridden over what my cursed-self did to Kathryn, and furious at Regina for putting us in that position. But we must resist the temptation to lash out in blind, righteous, rage, for we will hurt ourselves as much as her. Giving this woman the same chance that magic has granted her and us alike is the _only_ honorable thing to do. My family and I took it upon ourselves to come to Regina's aid today - and as you know, honor - and hell, plain old common decency - dictates that we continue that protection for as long as she remains the unbroken young woman she has become. We have, as a family, a duty to see this through, and if you truly consider yourselves worthy of the station you were born into, you'll understand that."

"Yet you insist on believing that _she _didn't know that," replied Francis. "That she hasn't planned this whole thing out, using you as her puppet in this farce!"

"We've always thought she was the one pulling our string like a deranged puppeteer - and believe me, I know what being someone's puppet is like," August added wryly, eliciting a few tired chuckles across the room. "But I also know, from the moment I was given life, my destiny was my own. And I have awoken from that cursed wooden tomb twice now. Both times after that, I truly knew what it meant to have no strings to hold me down. When the curse broke, so did _your_ strings. And now Regina's have been snipped as well. Just as you all spent 28 years playing a part under another person's will, so did Regina from the day she was born. What's more, even after the Dark Curse, she was being played and didn't know it. I, for one, would like to see what kind of a person she really is, free from her puppeteers." He seemed to deflate the moment he finished, but a brief flash of Emma's warm smile was all he needed, and he was energized to keep going. For all the painful guilt Emma's parents had endured because of the what they had to do, he was sure the agony of slowly turning back to wood was worse because he _had _had a choice. His father's forgiveness had been an obvious conclusion, once he'd let himself look past his own opinion of himself. After all, it was his father than had forced him through the wardrobe. And Jiminy.. well, that's what a conscience was for. To guide, and help move you past those bad decisions - not judge. But the forgiveness of Emma's parents... their opinion was the only one that could hold a candle to Emma's. The opinion of the one infant, and now woman, who had haunted his dreams for 28 years.

But he knew he didn't yet have the forgiveness he coveted so dearly. Considering who her parents were, it wasn't a surprise she was kind - under that porcupiney shield. But even as they teased each other, there was always that moment. A moment that served as a punctuation mark to her flash of a smile at this very moment. Being a writer, he could only think of it as the ellipse that follows when you can't quite put your sense of betrayal into words.

Her electric, genuine, smile was a bright signal flare arching high into the sky, carrying hope on it's fiery tale, only to fizzle and succumb to reality - to gravity - and...

He didn't deserve to be rescued from his guilt. And it seemed that even as Emma said she didn't blame him - his revelation that he had taken the place that had been meant for her parents had opened up an old scar. And scars always take longer to heal. He counted himself lucky she even seemed to enjoy his company anymore. If she hadn't, if she'd cut him out of her life, he'd have been screwed on the redemption front. Was that self-serving too? He shoved down the sigh swirling as it took shape in his chest.

As August broke her eye contact - she was sure he was seeing a feeling she didn't mean to show him, considering how often he did that - Emma noticed Snow draw herself up, her dauntless energy unfolding, like the petals of a nightblooming cactus she'd first seen while living in Phoenix, to form an aura around her. It was a regality that Mary Margaret had never possessed, and the phenomenon was at once comforting and painful for Emma to watch. On the one hand, she could only really see Snow - her mother - when she took on this aire. On the other hand, Mary Margaret disappeared, her best friend gone if not dead. She supposed this was what it was like for the loved ones of people with Alzheimers. Only, instead of confused, angry, or childlike beings wearing their loved one's skin, she was possessed by a much more vibrant soul.

Snow's aura snapped everyone's focus to her and she nodded in general acknowledgment of their attention. "Thank you, August. Now, has anyone else a case to put forth, or shall we move on?" After 28 years teaching, a few headshakes, murmurs, and the general malaise towards speaking up in the affirmative, or negative, were more than enough to know she was free to move on. "So it shall be. How say you?" The antiquated speech patterns that Storybrooke residents took on when dealing with situations to their own world didn't help Emma's feelings of unreality - especially when it came to 'Mary Margaret'. It simply made her feel like she'd never known the woman at all.

Prince Thomas was the first to nod. "I pledge."

Abigail followed on his heels. "My word is my bond, and my pledge."

Red, Granny, Finn, Ariel, Eric, and Blue followed suit, taking a kind of counter-clockwise path around the room. King Francis was slower on draw, as was Midas, both answering with the begrudgingly formal and traditional, "My word is my bond, my word is my people's pledge. As I say as one, so say we all."

Finally, all eyes landed on Grumpy, still sulking in his booth. He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. When the assembled group didn't seem appeased he sat up straight and scowled at them, eyes narrowed. "Aye," he answered in a huff, taking the weathered wool newsboy cap that had been clutched tightly in his hands and pulling in down onto his head, tugging it left and right a couple times to adjust it to his specifications. "Pledged."

"Thank you, Grumpy," answered Snow with a soft smile. To Emma's never-ending surprise, the former dwarf was wrapped around Snow's finger as much as his Disney counterpart - albeit the real Grumpy's affection was more that of an uncle or brother, than the romantic variety. An instant past the smile, she was Queen Snow, warrior princess again. "So say you, so you are bound," she proclaimed. "Once we're concluded here tonight, we all need to get on those phone trees the Principal Hubbard drew up and pass the word. Let them know that any harassment or confronting her for her crimes, even a cat call about her being defeated, will result in house arrest, a week in jail, or worse, depending on the nature of the offense."

"Wait, hold on - you know, I agreed to this, but you're clearly not telling us something!" exclaimed Finn. Though he trusted them, there was something about the declaration that rubbed him the wrong way - you can never scam a scam artist, and he'd run enough 'shell games' to know deception and misdirection when he saw it.

"My girls are working on it as we speak," replied Blue.

"And that means what, exactly?" Finn shot back.

The fairy sighed. "Though her new heart is weaved of good magic, it is also a prison for all the blackness that created the Evil Queen. That is why she cannot remember anything that has transpired from the first splinter that wounded her and festered into the evil that would eventually consume her."

"So she's not good at all!" proclaimed Midas. "Her heart is still rotten at the core."

"It is no different than any one of you.. us," Blue replied tiredly.

"It isn't our misfortune that shapes us," added August. "It's what we do about it."

"Precisely," remarked Blue. "And from what I and my sisters have discovered so far, there is a way to drain the blackness without unleashing the destructive power that would come with it bursting from the bonds of good magic like a faulty dam."

"Bursting?" remarked Finn.

Blue took a deep breath and proceeded to explain about the danger of Regina experiencing the whole of what her life became crashing down around her at once. Like pulling the wrong branch from a beaver's den, it would unleash a torrent that could crush anyone under its force - and also like said dam, there was no way to tell which branch was holding the whole thing together. Or in this case, which memory would trigger collapse of the good magic now taking the place of her 'heart'.

"So why, exactly, can't we just lock her up and throw away the key - someplace where no one will tell her anything?" asked Grumpy.

"She was a prisoner - under her mother, then my father - for most of her life," replied Snow. "You think that won't start jogging memories of such? the resentment of an unjust imprisonment alone could be..." she trailed off, as there were no words.

"Indeed," replied Blue. "And as long as she remains the woman she was before the darkness, the more good she will be infused with. It is our hope that it will temper her, should she regain her memories. And if we're extremely lucky, there's a possibility that we will replace the keystone of her darkness with one of goodness."

"Fine. But I cannot leave my subje- my people - in ignorance of the disaster possibilities before us," replied Midas darkly.

"_Seriously_?" replied Emma. "Rumors - about pretty much _everything - _are running _rampant _in this town and you want to add fuel to the fire?! They'd lynch her in a second, without a shred of _real_ evidence, and I can tell you that the only thing they'll accomplish is Regina going all supernova and destroying everything and everyone before they even get a noose around her neck! Are you willing to risk _that_?"

Blue nodded. "The smallest morsel of information can snowball into an avalanche of speculation. Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and for now it will serve everyone better if they have no consequences to speculate about. And as we do not yet have the fully story, we think it safest to not provoke discussion."

"So we're supposed to act all buddy buddy with her now?" Grumpy asked indignantly.

"Just don't antagonize her. I know that will be a challenge for _you_," replied Emma, needling the dwarf, who shot her the evil eye in response. She couldn't help herself, he was fun to get a reaction out of, and she suspected he liked his cantankerous reputation, and her spreading it. "But if _I _can do it, then _you_ can do it, and if _you_ can, then _no one_ has an excuse.'

Snow nodded. "I know this is all hard to swallow, but I assure you, if you give her the chance to simply be, you'll see she's no harm. And if you actually talk to her, perhaps you'll see why I could never bring myself to kill the woman - because I knew she had been swallowed by a dark entity, and was trapped inside it. At least, I wanted to believe that... but today Rumplestiltskin confirmed as much. And that entity was a piece of the Dark One himself."

The ensuing silence, as those present tried to digest this information, was enough for Emma. She was at once anxious to, and absolutely not wanting to, confront August. She had been in the position of walking away before another 'friend' could hurt her for so long that confrontation was no longer a part of her skill set. Facing down Mayor Mills had been like confronting any perp who'd skipped bail, but conflict within personal relationships was different; cutting a friendly acquaintance out of her life at the first sign of conflict was her reflex. Bite them before they could bite you was a rule she'd lived by for years. But she knew that the people around her deserved more. Not that that stopped the vertigo she experienced with every frank discussion. This meeting had now firmly gone into the realm of Snow and David's expertise. She cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Right. Well, with that, August and I need to set up a game plan for Gold's proposal." She nodded at the group. She gave August a look that indicated it was time for them to leave, and that was all the excuse he needed to be fast on her heels. As they made their way out, and the diner's door swung shut behind them, she only caught a snippet of the conversation.

"The citizens of northwestern Storybrooke have continued to report an unsettling amount of mutilated forest creatures in the area," said Francis.

"Not to mention the pets," added Abigail. "Dogs, cats, rabbits... it makes no difference."

"The same goes on in the south," announced Midas. "It looks to be a wild animal of sorts."

"The same that punched that hole through the hardware store sign, I'd bet," replied Phillip. "The magic must have released some kind of beastly menace."

"Clearly, whatever is out there is a monster let loose by breaking the curse," replied Ariel, no stranger to monsters under the sea or on land. "But as it cannot escape Storybrooke any more than us, it has been forced to feed on the animals it can scoop up with little effort. And it needs to feed every night, like a shark trapped in trammel pot."

"And the pavement just outside my very diner has had a hole punched out from the earth beneath our feet," added Granny. "How does that explain a predator? Unless that Menace was locked under our feet for the fully 28 years before Sidney tipped us off to Regina's underground labyrinth."

"Perhaps when magic was released, someone regained the ability to transform into a deadly beast, but doesn't want to come forward due to fear or guilt," replied Snow.

"Like a cursed wolf form," David added.

Red narrowed her eyes at the former shepherd, but Granny went on the offense. "If you mean to accuse my granddaughter, you'd best just say it. It's not like plenty of people in this town haven't started giving us the evil eye!"

"I didn't mean to imply-" began David.

Snow frowned in offended confusion. "We would never think that you and Red-"

Granny waved her off. "It's not _you_ I'm trying to address, dear." Snow nodded.

"Okay. That brings us to the Menace. I believe should go over this now. Spare no details - they may be the key piece to this puzzle."

As Emma stepped outside, holding the door for August, she relished the crisp fall air - or maybe it was her freedom from the squabbles that energized her. Whatever the case, it didn't matter to her. She briefly shut her eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of evergreen trees, blazing fireplaces, and crisp, cool air, before turning her gaze onto August.

He may not have known her long, but it was the same look he'd seen in her eyes 28 years earlier when she needed something. Something she had no words to ask for, but was determined to communicate somehow and get it. He made no sound, but still found himself hesitant to meet Emma's gaze. It was amazing how much the eyes of a person never really changed, be they an infant or a grown, world-weary woman. Yet, somehow, it felt the same as when he was a seven year old boy - and he knew he couldn't walk away again.

"If you insist on keeping these things from me then I'm gonna have to insist that your nose keeps growing. Well.. swelling, I suppose. Either way, it's going to get bigger. And I have a feeling my fist is going to hurt a lot more than Blue's wand."

He rubbed the palm of his hand against the back of his neck. "Well, technically, that was part of the whole puppet thing and -"

Emma stepped into his personal space, bathed by yellow light, under their own urban spotlight from the street lamps above. "Does the name Bailey mean anything to you?" she asked. To her surprise, he seemed to genuinely trying to place the name. She felt herself tense up as she prepared for the simple accusation. "How about... _Bael_fire?"

August's stomach dropped and he suddenly, fervently, wished he'd never come to this village that felt as if it were constructed of his many regrets. It was the trait he and Emma had most in common, he had learned: running came naturally. Ties to people and places did _not_. Yet, somehow, he'd maintained silent communication with the man she named almost as long as he'd lived in this realm. Or perhaps it was better said that Bae had never let him go. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before mustering up the courage to look Emma in the eye. He owed her that much - a thousand times over, really - and set his jaw resolutely. "I didn't mean to lie. Sometimes ... I'd rather not have spoken to ever again, you have to believe me -" The look on her face made it clear he didn't have the right to demand anything from her. And he agreed. "That is... please believe me when I say that sometimes I do such a good job pushing him out of my mind, I truly forget him. You know how it is."

She did. And she'd been a master at it - at least until Henry had come back into her life. Though she loved him with all her heart, he would occasionally make a certain face or gesture that put her in mind of his father. The more she'd let Henry in, the more painful it was to see Bailey in him. She did her damndest to keep it from affecting her relationship with him, but at her core was that 3 year old girl, abandoned by the only family she'd ever known, who screamed for her to push him away. It insisted very clearly that he possessed the same charm as his father, so it was inevitable he'd use them against her; use her and leave, just like Bailey had. She gave August a begrudging nod.

"Right. So, I may not have been entirely accurate when I said I had no strings..."

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, poor August. You'd best not try and talk your way out of this one... And while we're at it, what was the second time Regina saved Snow's life?


	16. Octopus Shoes

**A/N: **I'm sure there's a number of you out there wondering what happened to Regina in this story, but I promise she'll be back in a big way with Henry and others come next chapter. I'm almost done lassoing in all the players and plot threads so we can start barreling forward. Though Regina's first ever night on the town will be thrown in before the heavy plot arrives. It's a couple scenes I've been eager to write since I started this, and while kinda fluffy, will serve a purpose probably unapparent until near the end. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

**Reviewer Mail Call:**

**Once. Evil. Regal - **The basic idea with experimenting on magical animals was simply thinking out loud. I wasn't entirely happy with the way it turned out, but it was supposed to pair with the other idea in the chapter that the people of FTL viewed fairies as infallible parental authorities. With the curtain pulled back, thanks to being separated from magic and untold centuries of established structure, Blue's opinion won't just carry less weight, but may be completely discarded by some.

**SkullGauddes, South. for .Winter**** - **The second time Regina saved Snow's life is between them, Cora, and Rumple. For now, anyway ;) But since they know, they might just drop a little hint in their dialogue here and there until we get to that reveal.

**Anonymous Nerd Girl**** - **The Menace was my answer to what tore up Storybrooke in the preview shots before 2x01 aired. It won't be a wraith, of course, cause who could have seen that coming?

* * *

**Chapter 16: Octopus Shoes**

Emma narrowed her eyes at August. The expression somehow brought it home to him that if their positions had been reversed 28 years ago, he probably wouldn't have strayed so far off path. "Well. You sure squirm like a real_ boy_," she remarked.

"And you've got the disapproving mother scowl down pat," he replied with what flippancy he could manage.

She rolled her eyes in reply. "Look. We're not going to get anywhere if we _both_ deflect." While neither of them knew much about swordplay, Emma had realized in the past week that she had met her match in dueling with words. It was a favorite pastime of both, and truth be told, she had fun matching barbs and parrys with August much of the time - but times like this, it was beyond maddening. Especially so, when she'd realized what it was like being on the receiving end, and how much Snow and David had put up with from her. She crossed her arms.

August rubbed a hand across the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Right. So..."

"So, what? Is that your way of saying you're working for Gold's son? Because it sure as hell sounds like it. He's had enough practice gaming people," she stated bitterly, thinking back to how he'd played her a decade earlier.

August abruptly stopped squirming as a fire sparked in his eyes. "I'd never work for that son-of-a-"

"Imp," finished Emma. "Fine. Let's start with the easy part. How do you know him? It can't be a coincidence that we both have had... dealings with him."

"I suppose not," replied August, studying her. "But if it was anyone's doing, it was him." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I met him after my fourth runaway attempt - I was about fourteen at the time."

"I thought you escaped the foster system," remarked Emma.

"Yeah, well, a roll of a thousand dollars doesn't last long in the hands of a pair of adolescents and a seven year old. Not to mention we were minors, of course. Being a kid, and a stranger to this world, I had thought I'd be able to apprentice and earn my way. The Enchanted Forest wasn't exactly big on child labor laws."

"You were picked up," concluded Emma.

August nodded. "About three months after I left you behind," he explained softly. "But I was halfway across the country when I was picked up. Some cop found us sleeping in a junkyard car. I was put back in the system, but without any documentation, I was back to square one. That was the first time I tried to get back to you - but shockingly, my caseworker wasn't about to let me dictate where I would be placed, even if he'd believed that I was the kid you were found with. Especially not when I was demanding to go somewhere across state lines."

"So you ran away again?" asked Emma.

"I'd learned a few things during my time with those pre-teen thugs. Stole what I hoped was enough to get back to Maine, and ran away as soon as I could." He shook his head. "Even if it had been enough, which it wasn't, a seven year old living on the streets tends to attract attention and a good samaritan got the authorities on me again somewhere in Pennsylvania. That time, I realized that if I was going to get back to you, I would need to learn some skills outside woodworking - like reading. So, I bided my time, went to school, learned all the usual stuff. It wasn't until nearly a year later that I first saw _my_ movie during a rainy day in school and the reality of my situation really started to click into place."

"Disney's Pinocchio," replied Emma.

"Yeah. You can imagine how strange and frightening it was to find out everyone in this world knew my story - more or less. It did explain why I'd immediately been assigned a therapist after insisting my name was Pinocchio, though."

"You're lucky you didn't end up in a rubber room."

August smirked. "I suppose so. But anyway, when I asked the teacher where the story came from, she explained that it was an old fairy tale. That was when she gave me a copy of Grimm's book. It was way above my reading level, of course, but it gave me purpose while I treaded water, waiting to be able to get back to you. It helped me catch up to the other kids, and even surpass them, by giving me back purpose, trying to piece together how our lives could possibly be known here. It's basically why I became a writer."

"This is fascinating and all, but can you just skip to the part where you met him?" snapped Emma. She didn't like treating the already guilt-ridden guy like that, but her patience would only go so far - especially in this situation.

"Right. Yeah, well, like I said, it was my fourth runaway attempt. It was my best attempt yet - managed to not get caught for six months. Made it all the way to Albuquerque. But, I guess you could say that's where I made a wrong turn."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You were arrested."

August nodded in surprise. "Caught stealing a loaf of bread - cliche, I know. After a few days in juvy, where I played the good boy, I was assigned to a local youth mentoring program."

"The Casa de los Hermanos program," supplied Emma.

"I think that's what they called it later," replied August. "It was just being set up when I was assigned my ex-foster kid mentor."

"Bailey."

"Right. He had just been released from the system himself. He'd petitioned and just been granted his emancipation as a minor. So, even though he was barely 17, he was an 'adult'. I was told I was lucky to have such a success story for my mentor. And at first, I thought I was."

"Yeah. Sounds about right." If fairy tales being real wasn't weird enough, here they were, talking about the man who had been the most important person in her life, outside her family, and it sounded from his tone that Bailey had played just as important a role in August's life. It was becoming progressively easier to buy he was actually Rumplestiltskin's son. Again, her mind flitted back to Henry's penchant for schemes. The last thing she wanted to do was bring the charming snake that was his father into his life and risk the guy encouraging him to use that gift in a destructive way.

"At first, it was amazing. He seemed so interested in me - this gangly, skinny kid who most people thought was a bit weird," said August. "Looking back, I know it was just because of magic."

Emma frowned in confusion. "But there's no magic outside Storybrooke."

"Sure there is. We brought it with us, Emma. I'm only flesh and blood thanks to the Blue Fairy's magic. It's part of me. And you - you were created from the most powerful magic of all."

"True love. Yeah," replied Emma in a clipped tone, waving her hand to indicate he could move on from the subject. "If I had a dime for every time I heard that in the last week, I could have smelted David a new sword by now."

"Well, be that as it may, it's true. The point is, didn't you ever notice that he was different; that his aura was different?"

Emma shrugged. "I was a stupid teenager girl who didn't know the difference between love and infatuation - of _course_ I thought he was different than anyone else I'd ever met."

"What you felt was the magic of our homeworld. I realize you were too young to remember what our world felt like, but you must have notice something was missing."

"My whole life I've been missing things. Parents. Any kind of family. Friends. And I'm supposed to notice the absence of something I don't even remember mixed in with all that?" scoffed Emma.

"It's why he was so magnetic to me. Clearly to you too."

"He had plenty more people than you and I in the palm of his hand," replied Emma.

"True. But in our cases, it went further. I saw plenty of people get burned by him, but eventually, they all stepped away. But you, me, for us, he was like a drug, slaking a thirst. Filling in a little missing piece of ourselves."

He was right, she knew, but she hated to admit it. "Well, at least I have an excuse for letting him treat me like his lapdog," she remarked.

"It's also how I knew who you were the moment I rolled into Storybrooke. And why Snow was drawn to you."

Emma thought back to those first few days in what used to be a sleepy hamlet. She hadn't understood why Mary Margaret had been so kind and trusting of her, but she and Henry had broken down something hard inside Emma. After finding out the true nature of their relationship, she'd figured that it was because they really were family - but then, she'd read plenty of accounts of adopted kids who never build a real relationship with their birth parents after finding them as adults. August might have a point - and really, who was she to question any of this stuff at this point?

"I was truly starting to doubt myself by the time Bae came along," continued August. "But once he figured out where I'd come from, he told me he was from our land and... There was finally someone to talk to. I wasn't alone!"

"And you knew you weren't crazy," remarked Emma. August nodded and she thought back on her time with Bailey. "No wonder he knew just what to say," she remarked, shaking her head bitterly. She narrowed her eyes at August. "You told him about me, didn't you?" she accused in a low voice. "You sent him after me."

"Not exactly," replied August quickly. "I mean, he was still just a volunteer, anyway."

"Hold up - seriously? 'Not _exactly_'?! Why were you in _New Mexico_ if you were running away to get back to _me_?" asked Emma.

August hung his head. "I... I wasn't anymore. It had been 7 years. At first, I had told myself I would get down to Mexico, find work in a country where you didn't need documentation to get a job, and kids who worked at such a young age weren't as unusual. I told myself that I could get enough money to take you back and take care of both of us. I was also starting to think I was as crazy as it seemed... that's when I was picked up. That's when I met him and it wasn't long until he was filling my ears with poison."

He tensely rubbed his hand along his stubbly jaw. "He told me that his story wasn't in this world, but his father's was. And that he'd tried to save everyone from his father - Rumplestiltskin. He talked about meeting the Rheul Gorm. Then it became all about how I was like his brother - that we were the closest thing to family either had in this world because the Blue Fairy gave us both a chance at freedom."

"And then you told him about me," added Emma, her voice low and dangerous. It wasn't that she didn't understand. It was that she understood all too well, because Bay played to every vulnerable, needy feeling she had, and he'd only known to target her because of August.

"I didn't know what to do - so, yes, of course I asked him! And he convinced me that as long as you were a ward of the state it would be impossible to track you down. That until you were a legal adult, I had no options. Then Bae got it into my head that by then you'd never believe me anyway. That if a prophecy foretold you'd break the curse, it didn't matter what I did. That I should worry about saving myself." He looked up, his bloodshot eyes betraying the intensity of guilt he carried. "I'm _so_ sorry Emma."

It was strange feeling like you'd been betrayed by someone your whole life when you'd only met the guy, hell, knew he existed, a few months earlier. She couldn't meet his eyes, so she stuffed her hands deeply into her back pockets and stared up into the night sky. The stars here were so much brighter than any of the cities she'd been in. It wasn't the only thing that was clearer in this strange little town. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "Everyone's been saying that to me lately." The streets were so quiet, she could hear the smacking noise of his lips coming apart as he opened his mouth in rebuttal. She shifted abruptly to face him again. "Don't." August's lips remained parted, but he made no move to continue. "Just... don't. Look, for all the apologizing everyone, you, my parents, Blue, Jiminy... I can't blame anyone. I don't. You were all only doing what you thought was right - and I can't even say that they didn't do the right thing. And with my history, who am I to condemn anyone for mistakes?" She shook her head. "But every time you guys try and apologize, I end up comforting you - trying to alleviate _your_ guilt, and I don't think I can do it any more. Do you know how _unfair_ that is? I don't mean to sound some spoiled kid, but when is it gonna be _my_ turn? When do_ I _get to be reassured and not feel selfish for making someone else feel guilty about doing what they could for me?!" She could feel her voice rising in a battle between anger and sorrow, but couldn't bring herself to care for now. She saw the guilt in August's eyes and hated that she was enjoying it.

"If that's what I can do for you, then you can start with me," he replied quietly.

_'Figures, he had to go and ruin it,' _she thought as the lather she'd been working into fizzled. They were both silent for a few minutes.

"I was heading for Mexico before he came along," started August again, finally. "He just convinced me to not bother going back to you. I could have made your life easier - even just been a stalwart friend who didn't tell you about the curse. I could have been there, and I wasn't." His voice wasn't apologetic anymore. It was hard edged with an old, well-honed anger. "I didn't believe in me, but I didn't believe in you. What could some orphan kid do against the Evil Queen? Why did I have to responsible for you? I didn't ask for that! So, here was this badass from our land, who was the _son_ of the Dark One, and had survived trying to take him down when he was just a kid. And he'd figured out how to make it in _this_ world too. To use the Dark One's tricks to do good for other orphans in this world - at least, you know, that's how he painted it. So, yeah, I told him about you. I told him your name. I told him that we were cursed. That I was supposed to get you back to your family. The royals that sent you through to save them." The defensiveness in his tone was hollow and Emma suddenly felt like the White Fang to his tearful adolescent boy, trying to release her for her own good. And she was happy to go along with it for the moment - lt herself blame and hate for a few minutes. "Everything that happened after we came into this world is_ my_ fault."

"You're damned right," she replied, and was met with a surprised but completely accepting look from August. "You were just a kid - but you're the only one of _everyone_ whose actions were entirely up to you. We weren't separated by the system. _You_ left. And, apparently, _you_ put Bailey into my life. He knew everything about me and did what he did for... I don't know what reason, but I sure as hell bet it goes back to something you told him! You seem to get that he's not a good guy, but!" She threw up her hands. "But for _some_ reason, you're _still_ in contact with him!" She was rolling on waves of built-up frustration and anger now. "Did he tell you all the sordid little details about what we did together? Send you pictures, maybe?" She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at August, her breath bursting forth from her mouth in small, heavy puffs that drifted into the cold New England air like dragon's breath. "Have we met before? Were you one of his smarmy friends that..."

"No!" August finally spoke up. He wanted this; he deserved it, and she deserved to vent, but he didn't want her assuming things that weren't true, either. "I tried to cut him out of my life when I realized he wasn't the hero I wanted him to be - hell, not even a hero, just a brother or mentor I could lean on in a world where I had no one. When I realized he couldn't be any of those things, that's when I tried to leave! The schemes, gaming the system... embezzlement, blackmailing foster families he knew were using their foster kids like their personal welfare check dispensers... it seemed like justice at first. But eventually, I realized it wasn't about helping kids. It was about helping himself." He sat heavily on the hood of the nearest car, a sturdy boat of a brown, early 80's sedan, and gripped his knees as he stared at the pavement. "I stole away one night, but he tracked me down... sent some young thugs to where he knew I'd be. He was the one who had told how to get to Mexico - safe havens along the way... The message he sent was very clear. Either I cooperate, keep his secret, and do what he asked, or he'd send guys from his ring of ex-foster kid toughs to make me. Unlike CPS officers, those guys don't care about borders."

"What did he want from you?" asked Emma. August's story continued to sound all too familiar.

"Thanks to Walt Disney, he was all too aware of my past. Plenty of the details may have been wrong, but my natural wanderlust wasn't one of them. He'd keep me on a stipend, fund my travels, and all I had to do was keep an eye out for magic. Other people not of this world, artifacts, whatever. And I agreed. One one condition: he made sure you were taken care of. That he'd use his connections in the system to help you." He laughed bitterly. "I was still naive enough to think his word meant something."

"Oh, he took care of me, alright," sneered Emma.

"I didn't know," he replied instantly. "About any of it. Not about him meeting you, not your... relationship... not Henry or how he set you up to take the fall for him. Not until years after the fact. But that's no excuse. I handed you over to a man I knew was no good, and never bothered to check in on you. I could have weaseled my way into your life, and I didn't, because by the time you turned 18 I was lost halfway across the globe in the land of Cockaigne, and I couldn't even be bothered to remember your birthday. I saw how he was with women. Hell, he only married his wife because she was the daughter of the Assistant Director of Arizona's Juvenile Corrections."

Emma slumped down next to him on the car's amply wide hood, resting the heels of her boots onto the chrome bumper. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hands dangling out and in like a pair of divining rods. "I know what you're doing."

"And that would be?"

"Giving me someone to blame. To be justifiably angry with," she said, absently picking at a chip in the nail of her middle finger with her thumb. "Thanks."

"How well could I be doing at it if you know what I'm doing?" he asked, staring off into the distance.

Emma shrugged, but remained staring ahead as well. "I said 'thanks', didn't I?" For all Snow and David tried to understand her, it was the little things, like not forcing eye contact, that they still couldn't understand about her that were proving to be a wrench in making any more emotional progress. Sharing intimate thoughts and feelings were so much easier for her when she didn't have to look at them while doing it. Like talking to yourself. Somehow, he got it. Another wave of anger swept into her chest at that thought alone - that there could have been someone in her life that got her. She didn't have to be as alone as she had been. She scowled but kept her voice at a level of controlled anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"

August blinked, genuinely confused. "Tell you what?"

Emma snapped her head to the right, eyes blazing at the man. "Bailey - him being Gold's son!"

He seemed to shrink back at this accusations. "I - I didn't know. Not for sure. Bay never mentioned you were pregnant. When I met you here in Storybrooke, and found out who Henry was, I couldn't be sure. I could feel the same pull with him, but I don't know anything about inter-realm children. For all I knew, it was genetic. And laying that kind of implication on you just after the curse broke? It didn't seem right. It was only when I was trying to get Rumplestiltskin's dagger that I even let myself entertain the thought. I realized, it was ten years ago that Bay was suddenly interested in tracking his father down. He sent me a drawing of the knife. I couldn't know what he wanted it for - protection or to take the power for himself." He set his jaw resolutely. "I just knew that he wasn't going to get it."

"Because you wanted its magic," accused Emma.

"I figured that as long as I was gonna take it, I may as well make good use of it. Either way, Bay wasn't getting it."

"You should have told me."

"You're right," he grumbled.

"You're damned right I am. I want to trust you, but then the other shoe drops. And then another, and another. They just keep coming. I need to know, August - are there any more shoes? Because I' to think you're part octopus, since you seem to have enough shoes for eight feet."

"Six feet," replied August flatly.

"I'm sorry - what?" asked Emma, flabbergasted.

"Six feet. Octopus only have six feet. The other two appendages are arms."

"Right. Well, if we're getting all technical here, they don't actually have feet."

August gave her a melancholy smirk. "Touche' Prin - Sheriff."

Emma's mood quickly sobered back up. "August. I need to know. Are there any more bombshells?"

He shook his head. "My octopus is barefoot..."

"Bay doesn't know about Storybrooke? About his father?"

"I was just a boy, I didn't know enough to tell him anything like that. I've kinda been winging it since I rolled into town, if you couldn't tell. I didn't know if Rumplestiltskin was here, and if he was, whether he was under the curse... I didn't even know if everyone was cursed together or scattered across the globe. I just knew they were trapped by some kind of magical prison. But when you're talking about magic... they could have all just been coma patients for all I knew."

"Then how did you find Storybrooke?"

"When you broke the curse, it was like I said: I started turning back into wood. And necessity being the mother of invention, I suddenly realized that my best bet was starting back at the beginning. Back to Maine. I started searching names, but like before, I came up empty. Until I realized that if our people were in this world, anyone with a name known in this world could never navigate it. I only knew my father and the people close to him, and by proxy, close to your parents by name. Except for the Evil Queen. Her name was understandably infamous, even if most people were too superstitious to say it aloud."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You googled Regina?" she asked incredulously.

August nodded. "There are plenty of Regina Mills in this country, but only one ruling over a small town, practically sitting on top of where we came into this world. It wasn't a big leap, especially when there was no paperwork on that town until 28 years before. I never told him any of this. I haven't even heard from him for over five years now."

"Well. It should be one hell of a reunion for both of us, then."

"Gold wants us to bring him back," August concluded.

Emma held up the envelope on Baelfire. "Everything we need to find him is here, supposedly. Except where he lives, of course. I've only skimmed this, but as far as I can tell he, quit the volunteer firefighter brigade, resigned from the board of Casa de los Hermanos, emptied his bank account, then dropped off the face of the earth, leaving his dearest wife to pick up the pieces. That was five years ago. How much you wanna bet he ran into trouble with some of his underworld buddies?"

"He could be anywhere, then."

"Doubtful, if what you say is true. Since 9/11, once you cross the border, getting back in unnoticed is pretty damned hard without identification, and he's a known fugitive. If he really is trying to find people from the Enchanted Forest, he won't leave the country without knowing he can get back in. He's not stupid and he had plenty of unsavory connections. I can track him down," she said resolutely. After all the savior business, and complications of magic, it was almost nice to have a familiar task on her plate. One she had full confidence in her abilities to accomplish. It just sucked that it was finding the one guy she hoped to never see again.

"What about everything else?"

"David and Snow can handle the politics stuff. Red can take the badge. I don't plan on taking more than a day or two to get Bay's ass back here. After that, he's Gold's problem."

"And Henry?"

She sighed. "I haven't decided yet."

"Do your parents know about... him?"

"Snow does. David on the other hand... let's just say I don't know for sure yet, but I think his issues with you are probably going to be put on the back burner, in the shadow of one Bailey Fryer."

"Well. There's my silver lining I guess. Remind me to write up a thank you note to give to the prick when we haul his ass back here."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Don't break out the poetry just yet. Just because you avoided a well-deserved punch in the nose from me, doesn't mean David will be so kind." August merely grimaced in response, the memory of the Prince's outrage at a war council quite fresh for being 28 years ago. "How about we just head back to my apartment and start going through this thing," she added, waving the file in the air.

"The sooner we start the sooner we're done," he replied.

"My thoughts exactly." With that, the pair resumed their journey back, each quiet in their contemplation of things long passed and soon to come.

* * *

**A/N:** I based Baelfire's little faux-charity organization on a real organization, found in my old home of Tucson, AZ, called 'Casa de los Ninos' that works with foster and underprivileged kids as a kind of Big Bro/Sis and Helping Hands hybrid. That said, they are a wonderful organization I've had the pleasure of helping raise funds for, and are totally not corrupt or run by the son of an evil beast. I just figured, if Bae and Emma were in Phoenix, his organization's name should be given a similar southwestern flavor.

I promise I'll get into the hows and whys of Baelfire's change from good kid to manipulative, self-serving adult, but Emma and August couldn't know those details, so it will have to wait for that confrontation.


	17. Quandries

**A/N: **A quick little self-promotion to start, if you'll indulge me. Follow me on twitter, username minor_shan, if you'd like to talk OUAT, especially theories and the like. I'm always looking for folks to obsess with ;) I also post updates to my Tumblr account, which is my repository for all my non-fanfic OUAT creations, and theorizing, at storybrookepigeonpost. tumblr. com (remove the spaces, of course).

**Reviews! **Again, thanks for the kind words; any feedback certainly means the world. :) Regarding Bae, I will certainly try and flesh him out as a complicated person as well as the show's writers have Regin and Rumple.

Finally, fair warning, though this is already rated teen: there's an F-bomb at the very end of this chapter.

* * *

**Sparrows 17: Quandaries**

"Checkmate," declared Regina with a triumphant smirk.

Henry shook his head grinning. "Not so fast. Decoy flag! And checkmate's only for chess."

Regina raised an eyebrow, surveying the board, her face a playful version of the plotting expression he'd seen many times as she had become more and more desperate over the last few months. He sent a miner to go under the bombs surrounding her flag. "_That's _checkmate!"

"I thought you said checkmate was only for chess."

Henry shrugged. "There's not really a word for it in this game, so I guess it works."

Regina sat back on her stockinged feet and closed her eyes, smiling as she shook her head. Children were children, no matter the world, it seemed. "Where did you learn such strategy?"

"Misdirection and brain over brawn," he replied with a shrug. "It's the tactics you taught me."

Regina was taken aback for a moment as voices from girlhood lessons from her family and tutors came unbidden. Her mother's rulebook._'Lesson 12: He who sees defeat and does not stay, lives to fight another day. But he who sees the smartest path, wins the day with no blood bath.' _Her father's voice, and she smiles..._ Misdirection isn't merely for illusionist chicanery and pickpockets. Be it the battlefield of war or diplomacy, you win by making your opponent see only what you wish, and never let them do the same to you. It's why I've made sure you know all I do about spy's games and their bag of tricks." _

Then her father again, but it isn't something familiar. The context feels dark and alien. _"The heart is the one thing you can never trick into doing what you wish. The battle for love must be met head on. Please don't make me watch you do this. They're just children,' _he pleaded. Her own voice, commanding, but backlit with a petulance only she and her father could hear responded.

'_Then don't. I don't know why you're so sympathetic. They brought it on themselves. What would you know of true love, anyway?' _

'_I know of mine, as a father, for you.' _

She felt the memory-Regina's heart clench in pain in time with her own, and realized her face was scrunched in a deep frown.

"Regina?" called a small, familiar voice. "Regina? Are you okay? _Mom?!"_ The last plea snapped her from her vision as Henry's concerned face came into focus in front of her. When had she closed her eyes? "Was that a bad memory?" he asked.

Regina blinked, reflecting on what just happened, but the harder she concentrated on holding onto the memory, the more quickly it slipped away. She forced herself to relax, for Henry's sake, and shook her head slowly. All that was left now were the feelings, and no real content. "I... don't know. Maybe, in a manner of speaking..."

"What was it?" She frowned, looking through him. "Was is it about me?" he asked in a small voice.

"What?!" she gasped. "No! No... uh... my father, worried. Guiding me? Me... not taking it so well. Feeling guilty over something?" She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. Why was every fleeting feeling and memory that broke through negative in some way? And triggered by the smallest things. How could she play a game with the child she'd apparently raised - a game they'd enjoyed together - and it not elicit the slightest familiarity? Even Henry himself barely felt familiar, and he looked so much like the child Snow, she couldn't even be sure that feeling was actually him, or simply resonated because of the family resemblance.

"You're not gonna, like, explode or anything, right?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity as he tilted his head to one side, studying her.

Regina chuckled. "No... but I might if I'm outwitted by a child a few more times." She gave him a wink to indicate she wasn't serious and his expression of surprised delight at the jest lit up her heart.

Henry shrugged. "If it'll make you feel any better, I kinda stole the strategy from how you used to play with me." He then began cleaning up the board game, thinking it was probably better they don't go for a rematch.

Regina's expression softened at this bit of information, but continued to morph past this as she recalled the flash of desperation and guilt were related to something to do with her and children. She'd found her future self's life mirroring Cora's in so many little ways; could it be that she had been the same to innocent children? Using them for her own gain? She'd always wanted a family, but was just as determined to break the cycle and treat her children with the love, honesty, respect, and fairness that she'd never gotten from her mother. "Henry?" she opened quietly.

He looked up from gathering pieces, his chocolate brown hair shaggy in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Was I..." She pursed her lips nervously. "What kind of mother was I?"

Henry was thrown by the vulnerability in her eyes, and even being only ten, he knew this wasn't the time or place for brutal honesty. He didn't want to lie either, though. "You were strict..." he began, and immediately regretted opening with that as Regina desperately tried to mask the disappointment in her eyes. "But fair! Usually. And I dunno, maybe most of the time. I'm a kid - I'm not gonna think any punishment is totally fair, right?"

She appreciated the bone the boy was throwing her - giving her an out to rationalize what he'd said, but she still knew it was just that. She nodded, giving him a melancholy half smile. "Often. But good children - they don't always believe so."

"You took good care of me," he offered up. "As Emma has pointed out more than once, I was never hungry or cold. When I really got into some hobby or whatever, you'd make sure I got to try it, even if you knew I would probably lose interest and it would be a waste of money. Well, as long as it wasn't something that would 'rot my brain'," he continued, making finger quotes. By his tone she gathered that he wasn't being literal about brain rot; but coming from a world of magic to one filled with its own strange wonders, she wasn't inclined to disbelieve the possibility out of hand. Henry paused, fidgeting with his sleeves before looking back up at her. "And most importantly, I felt loved and wanted. Not like how Emma had it as a kid. She's made it pretty clear that for all I complained, my life coulda' sucked a lot worse." His scrunched his face in a strange fashion, as if contorting it would help him fully comprehend what he was about to say, even if he was too young to truly understand it as an adult does. "And I guess she's right. Don't tell her I told you, but she once said she'd have given anything to have had a home like mine when she was a kid. 'Course, that was before she knew about the big stuff with the town being cursed and some other stuff. Still, she's right. I should be thankful for everything you did for me - so yeah, I think that qualifies as a good mom," he concluded.

A swell of warmth bloomed in her chest at the words. If she'd done nothing else of significance in her life, she at least knew she'd given a child, her child, a home wrapped up in a ribbon of love. She desperately wanted to ask after a husband - had he ever had a father? But she didn't want the answer, for it could be only one of two things: she had never found love in all the years since losing Daniel, or she'd had another love ripped away. She wasn't sure which fate was worse, but surely, the memory of it would be disastrous in her current state. She swallowed hard at the thought.

Henry forced the lid of the Stratego game down, blowing and pushing his hair out of his eyes during the process. "Do you think Snow or Emma would mind if I gave you that haircut?" she asked, her mind scrambling for a safe topic.

"I don't see why they would," he replied as he slid the box back into a shelf under the TV. When he looked at her, he scrunched his nose up. "But I don't suppose it matters if _I_ don't want one?"

"I'm afraid it likely doesn't," she replied, amused by his obviously exaggerated pouting slouch. She unfolded her legs out from under herself and closed the short distance between them, staying on her knees she she could look him in the eye. She tilted her head to one side and peered up and under the curtain of hair over his eyes. "Now, what's _so_ bad about getting a haircut? Every prince must look his best for his kingdom. Unless you're vying to be the next pirate prince," she said, raising a disapproving eyebrow at him, though she couldn't quite hide the smirk on her lips.

His brows took on a curious furrow. "_Next_ pirate prince?" he asked. That wasn't a story in his book.

"Oh, you haven't heard that one?" she asked in feigned surprise.

Henry shook his head. "Is true, or is it just a story?"

"If there's one thing you, of all people, should know by now, it's that nothing is 'just a story'."

"Yeah, I guess," he replied. He'd found himself more confused in the last 12 hours than he had the previous ten years. On the one hand, he really liked this Regina. On the other... it was kind of like the woman who had raised him, his mom, was gone. He wondered if that's why Emma sometimes seemed to be of two minds when it came to Snow. But then, Snow seemed to be of two minds herself - her and Miss Blanchard, rolled into one. Regina, this new Regina... there didn't seem to be anything of his mom in her. The kinder parts that he mostly remembered from when he was little were close, but she was still more mature. This woman was still wide-eyed in more ways than he'd ever seen from his mom.

"How about a proposal?" asked Regina.

"For what?"

"You submit to the shears, and I tell you the tale of the great pirate prince, Captain 'Black Sam' Bellamy."

Henry gave her a skeptical look. "Why do you wanna give me a haircut, anyway?"

"Didn't I make you get them in the past?" she asked, doing her best to deflect his line of questioning.

He nodded. "Yeah, but that's not what I'm asking," he replied flatly, making it clear he knew she was trying to steer him off. "So why?"

She sighed. Being the adult, and mother by technicality, if not in heart just yet, it didn't seem right to admit weakness in front of the boy. But then, where did she learn _that_ value? Her mother? She wasn't sure. All she knew was it felt wrong to show weakness or fallibility. She licked her lips nervously. "Henry..." She looked down a moment, a hand going to his when she met his eyes once more. "I'm sure it's no surprise that I'm feeling quite overwhelmed."

"It's magic - you kinda gotta expect the unexpected, you know?" he replied matter of factly, and she couldn't help but smile a bit at the boy's unflappability. She was certain that he didn't understand the true dangers of a world with magic, else he wouldn't behave so, but that didn't mean she didn't want him to hang on to that ignorant bliss as long as he could.

"Look, I... I don't know what's going to happen. I don't even know who _I_ am, really. But I do know that for the moment, I am a burden on a group of very good people, and would like to do what I can to assist."

"By cutting my hair?"

Regina shrugged. "It's the only thing in this strange world that I think I might be able to help with. Unless you can think of something else?"

Again he was struck by the oddness of all this. His mom never asked him for his opinion, let alone his advice! He thought for a moment. "I guess not. But you don't actually _need_ to do anything. It's not like you hafta prove anything."

"Why do you say that?"

"Duh. You're family. That's what families _do_," he replied simply.

"Family?" she asked quietly, the question falling from her lips before she realized she was going to say it and the flash of the joy of it was almost painful. Her eyes glistened, and she was surprised at how much the sentiment had struck her. Maybe, just maybe, that familiarity and tug she felt from him truly were the remnants of her memories of him. Of _them._

Henry smiled at her reaction. He wasn't like your average ten year old boy that ran roughshod over other people's feelings, only aware on an intellectual level that other people had them too. He watched people - he always had. When he'd first started seeing Archie, he remembered hearing people refer to him as a 'sensitive boy'. He preferred to think of it as Sherlock Holmesyish. But, of course, being a kid that studied others meant he also didn't have to study himself. Had he been asked, he would have said it was the weirdness of the curse that made him start watching. But Archie's notes would have pointed to a mother who kept her distance, and a town full of people too scared to let their children play with Henry, should he get hurt by, catch a cold from, or have his feelings hurt by their child. The wall Regina had built for herself, she had built around Henry as well. Like Rapunzel and the covetous witch found in his beloved fairy tale books.

"Yeah. Family. We take care of each other because we care _about_ each other. We may not be the most normal one out there - probably the weirdest, I guess - but as long as you have family that loves you, life can't suck too much," he explained. "No one expects you to just accept us as family right away, you know. You don't really know us after all." _'And you tried to kill them before,'_ he thought to himself. "But maybe you can just trust_ me_? My grandparents, and Emma, they don't expect you to do anything to like, earn your keep, or whatever. I promise."

Regina nodded. She wanted to believe such a thing, but Henry was just a boy. Children loved freely, without fear being hurt. She'd been the same way, once upon a time, and it was only the deep roots of that innocence that kept her love for her mother alive. "Believe it or not, I really do trust you, Henry." No one could have been more surprised by the fact that she trusted him more than anyone, outside her father, after just a few hours. "But maybe you can understand this... I can't owe people. Even if they don't expect it, I expect it of myself." She paused as she screwed up her courage. This wasn't something she'd ever said aloud to anyone. "If I am in debt to someone, then I owe them, and that is the greatest power a person can wield over another."

"You're wrong," cut in Henry.

"I'm sorry?" asked Regina.

"You're wrong. The greatest power anyone can wield over another is to posses a heart. But not like black magic... a heart given freely and willingly." It was clear he was quoting from something, but what, she hadn't a clue. "That's what it says in the book."

"You're speaking of love," concluded Regina. _'What book?' _she wondered silently. It certainly didn't sound like something from the books she'd been forced to study growing up.

"Well... yeah."

Regina sighed. "I stand corrected," she replied.

"But I guess I know what you're saying. I don't blame you. I don't know a lot about when you were a kid, but... "

"It was unpleasant," she supplied quickly, hoping to shut down any further discussion of that particular subject. She tilted her head to one side. "How would you feel about me doing this simply because I'd like to help? Not because I feel obligated, but because I want to."

"Depends if it's true." Henry replied, and she felt stung by the question, realizing he would only feel the need to ask because she'd lied to him before.

If that was the old Regina, then it was another clue that she'd followed in her mother's footsteps far more than she could even fathom. She wanted to slap the woman who had created such a mess for her to put right. "I don't want to lie to you Henry - so I won't. Both because it's not fair to you, and because I think you're a smart enough boy to understand this. I can't help feeling obligated on some level - but I also truly do want to help the people who are helping me in whatever little way that I can. Do you understand how feeling both ways about something doesn't negate the value of one over the other?"

Henry nodded. "I think so." He wasn't ready to share as much, but he was beginning to feel that opening his heart to this Regina was somehow a betrayal of his mom - the one that raised him, and that he still loved, despite every reason not to. If he could be so torn over his feelings, he guessed he couldn't blame her for being guilty of the same.

Regina gave him a wide smile. "I'm glad. Because, to be honest, I don't know where else to start." She stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now, let's see if we can't get you looking less like a ragamuffin and more like a little prince, shall we?"

Henry gave her a smile and nodded in agreement. With the boy's help, Regina quickly transformed the bathroom into a makeshift barber's shop where Henry was perched on a stool, towel around his shoulders, facing the mirror. She met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and raised the pair of scissors. "I should warn you, I've only trimmed horse's manes before."

"You wait until now to tell me?" he replied, sounding very much like Emma.

"Getting your cooperation was difficult enough without needlessly worrying you about little details," she replied matter-of-factly. "But it's too late to back out now. Really, there's only a fifty-fifty chance you'll end up looking like a show pony," she added with a devilish twinkle in her eye.

Henry grimaced, caught between amusement and dread at this new development. "Maybe you should just start the story."

"Very well," said Regina as she turned her focus to Henry's mess of brown locks. "Legend has it that Sam Bellamy had run away from his royal birthright when he was but 16 years of age. The prince who would be pirate had always struggled against the reins that came with being born into privilege, but the night he met the girl that had been arranged as his future wife - a princess of just ten years - was the last straw. Unlike most princes, it was unlikely that he would get to experience the adventure of noble quests, or epic battles, for his kingdom had been one of peace and prosperity for a generation already. His fate, it seemed, was already planned out for him - but he refused to be a mere social tool for his father's kingdom..."

Regina was amazed by how natural this felt, and she wondered if she'd done this with him before. If she had, she had never told him this story - her favorite story - for Henry didn't seem at all familiar with the tale.

* * *

Half an hour later... "The Wydah's great mast splintered and cracked before finally breaking in two under the strain of such powerful winds. And so when he awoke to find only he, and three others of his crew, had survived the shipwreck, the dreaded 'Black Sam' Bellamy was good on his pledge. The pirate prince didn't attempt to retrieve the treasure, despite being lost in such shallow waters. He left it all behind and set forth for the greatest adventure of all: to find his precious Marie. For he now knew that with her he would win the greatest treasure of all : true love. But that's a story for another time," Regina finished quietly. They had moved upstairs to the home's loft, which Henry and Emma apparently shared, and tucked him in as she finished the tale she'd promised to the boy.

She smiled down at Henry; his blanket bunched in his small fists and nestled up so high on his face that only his tightly shut eyes peeked out. She was surprised by how strong the instinct to kiss his forehead was, but restrained herself, as she didn't know how light or heavy a sleeper he was. As she stood up she stole one last look at the child, and thought, not for the first time, that truly, she could love this boy. She certain she had loved him before. But while it was a wonderful feeling, the fact that she felt the need for such self declarations was troubling. It didn't feel like it was coming from her, but rather, the _other_ Regina's feelings. As if that woman had forgotten how to love but was trying to convince herself otherwise.

'_Mother! " she cried. Daniel flops to the ground like a rag doll. "No, no, no, no!" Her vision clouds with tears and it's like opening her eyes underwater, barely registering Cora's words through her own sorrow and rage. _

_"... Love is weakness... but power, true power, endures... and then, you don't have to rely on anyone to get what you want._

_"You've ruined everything! I loved him! I __**loved him!" **__she__shouts__**.**_

_"I __**do**__ love you!" She still can barely see through her tears but it's Henry she's making her case to now. She - __**that**__ Regina - realized that all the power in the world couldn't have saved Henry. But love had._

_She blinks back the tears as best she can and her eyes finally clear. They merely glisten now as she smiles down at the infant in her arms - his tuft of brown hair downy and amazingly thick for a ten day old. "I love you, Henry..." Her face hurts from smiling so much. "You're all mine... but more importantly, I will __**always**__ be yours.__**"**_

Her consciousness hovered in a void for a moment. She hadn't lost the ability to love. But, it seemed, someone had convinced her she had.

And then she fell.

Regina gasped as she was flung forward ten years, and it was very much like snapping back to consciousness after falling in a dream. Suddenly aware of reality again, her panic was instantaneous at the energy tingling and vibrating down to the fiber of her very being. It's magic, and the familiarity of it, the pleasure of its power, sickens her. Her eyes quickly shift to Henry. _'Gods! If I have hur - __**no**__ - the __**magic**__ has lashed out and hurt Henry, I don't know what I'll do!' _But when her eyes landed on Henry she saw he still slept soundly, the room bathed in gentle blue light and his face, by contrast, made angelic by a soft green glow. It put her in mind of a firefly drifting lazily over water. Blue glow? She stared down at her hands and realized her whole body emitted a fairy-like glow - then back at Henry. Somehow, she didn't know how, it seemed like the boy was snuggling up closer to the green energy, and it danced and shimmered along his skin in response. His face relaxed and a peaceful smile formed on Henry's lips. She felt her heart slow as she realized whatever she was doing wasn't hurting him. In fact, it seemed like it was soothing. She certainly felt connected to him in some way she had no words for. She found herself, some part of her energy, instinctually reaching out, as if to hold more tightly to the tether between them, and just like that, it was broken. Henry's swan lantern - or night light as he called it - was once again the only dim light.

She shivered as a final surge of power rippled down her spine. _'What_ was that?' she thought and sighed. Though she felt energized, rather than exhausted like the other two times, she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She mused on this question as she quietly crept to the door, closed it behind her, and slowly paded her way downstairs.

"He didn't live happily ever after, you know," remarked a voice right beside her as she took the last step.

Regina yelped, nearly leaping out of her skin in fright as her hands flung out of their own volition, to attack whoever or whatever had suddenly appeared. They were caught and stopped mid-air by a pair of soft, but strong hands.

"Whoah there, Jackie Chan!" said Emma with a chuckle, her grip firmly fixed on Regina's wrists, halting any movement.

"Gods!" Regina cried out and gasped for breath. As she realized she was still being restrained, she shot Emma an exasperated look. "Do you mind?" she asked. Emma rolled her eyes jovially, but let go. "Thank you." She rubbed her wrists absently, though they didn't hurt, and pressed her lips together in an embarrassed grimace. "Sorry... I didn't mean to attack you. But I find I am, understandably I think, rather on edge."

Emma shrugged. "No worries. Fists I can handle - it's magic that I'm still getting a handle on."

Regina cleared her throat, doing her best to pull herself back together. To go from flashback to magic to all-encompassing inner musings - and then terrorized out of them - her mind felt like it had been shattered, pieces thrown to the wind. So, she took the only firm line of thought available to her. "Who didn't live happily ever after?"

"Black Sam," replied a man's tenor voice. She looked in his direction, only now realizing that it had been August who had spoken and scared the wits out of her. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised you know the story."

"Why?" asked Regina.

"Because, he's a guy from this world," replied August.

Emma frowned. "Are you remembering things?"

Regina shook her head. "No. Well, yes, but nothing important to the larger scheme of things... at least I don't think so..." Her brow furrowed as she tried to sort through the latest flash of images. "Anyway... nothing to do with 'Black Sam'. The adventures of the pirate prince are simply a popular set of fish tales in my land."

"Well, he was an actual guy who lived here a few hundred years ago," remarked August.

"Really?" A small tug of delight seemed to play at one corner of her mouth. It had been her favorite stories growing up, and she dreamed and wished she could grown up to live a life like Marie.

"Yup. Happened just down the coast, about a hundred leagues south, actually. Not too far from Boston," he offered as an aside to Emma, though it was clear she had no idea what they were talking about. "His ship got caught in a nor'easter - a big storm -"

Regina nodded. "Yes. And he prayed to the gods for help, promising that if he survived he would give up pirating and never leave his love behind again. I know the story."

August shook his head. "'Fraid not. Real version is he died, his surviving crew members hanged, and Sam abandoned Marie after she fell pregnant - she was later to be accused of witchcraft after their child died and the Wydah sank, despite living in a realm where magic doesn't even exist."

Emma studied August for a moment. "How come you know so much about this?"

August shrugged. "I'm a writer, remember? I collect stories. You never know what you may learn when you listen a little. I believe it's also how this realm mistakenly became known as the land with no happy endings."

"Wait," interjected Emma, hands on her hips. "Are you telling me history _here_ are the fairy tales in the Enchanted Forest?"

"They're called fish tales there, but yeah." August nodded. "And other realms. At least, I've gathered as much from Jefferson over the last couple days."

Regina looked as if she'd bitten into a lemon. "Well... I think I can safely say I prefer the fish tale version better..."

"I could say the same about the tales I grew up with about the people of your world," remarked Emma wryly. "If happily ever after actually meant something we wouldn't be in this mess."

"There are stories of my realm?" Regina asked, eyes widening.

Emma paused, as she'd forgotten Regina didn't know about any of that, or of Henry's book for that matter. She cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah. Rumplestiltskin for one. Snow and Charming for another."

"Does that mean I'm known too?" asked Regina, not sure what to even make of the concept. Nothing she'd done in her life could be considered ripe for legend. But then, perhaps she was simply a supporting character in Snow's tale. Surely a princess, and the daughter of a princess legendary in her own right, would be known.

Emma opened her mouth, but found she may as well have been catching flies, as her mind drew a blank as to how to handle the question.

August, it seemed, didn't have that problem, and she was thankful when he jumped in instead. "Yes. Though not by name, which was fortunate in this world. When I came through as a boy, I was taken for a liar or as having lost my mind when I told them I was Pinnochio."

"You're known in this realm as well?" asked Regina. August nodded. "Well, you'll have to tell me that story some time," she remarked with a nod.

'_I knew there was a reason I keep you around,' _thought Emma as she shot him a grateful look for derailing her train of thought.

"And how was your evening?" asked Regina.

Emma motioned for the trio to move away from the stairs and they settled on the couch. She didn't want him worrying too much just yet. His dance card would be plenty full of concern in the next few days. Maybe even longer. She settled into the couch's embrace with an exhausted groan.

"I take it the meeting was an unparalleled success then," Regina remarked sardonically.

"Oh, yeah. Gangbusters." Emma sighed. "Actually, _sadly, _it went better than I thought it would. Not that I really had any clue of what to expect going in."

"Well. I guess I should be happy then. Or not," replied Regina sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I was clear as mud," said Emma. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and met Regina's eyes with a square, steady gaze. "Look... you need to realize that _your_ situation isn't the only mess magic has brought to this town." Regina seemed to bristle at this, but Emma pressed forward. "_But_, it is _my _first priority. Snow and David can handle the politics, Jiminy is on relief efforts for residents, and the dwarves and former palace guards can handle whatever beastie is causing mayhem at night. But finding people is what I do, and you're about as lost as they come. No offense."

Regina shook her head, no longer perturbed, now that she knew where Emma was going with this. "None taken. That... pretty much sums it up."

"All that said," continued Emma, "As you know, Gold has called in his favor and I'm going to have to honor it. Which means August and I will be gone for a few days, so I'm not sure how much progress will be made. I won't let anything be done about your condition without my being here. But I'll be doing everything in my power to get back here as quickly as possible."

Regina nodded in understanding. "I wouldn't have you endanger your family on my account, and there is no greater danger than Rumplestiltskin," she replied, thinking back to what she'd witnessed in his shop earlier that day. She sighed. "Truth be told, I'm in no hurry - as long as I'm not a danger to anyone, that is. I know there's a lot I don't want to know about the other Regina. About her life. And I'm more than a little..." She cast her eyes down. "Scared."

The last bit was barely audible, but Emma didn't blame the woman for having trouble admitting such a thing. Avoiding showing weakness at all costs was probably the only trait they shared, and separated from the mayor's venom, it was clear that she'd developed it as a defense mechanism against a lifetime of hurt. "Hey," she said, trying to pull Regina's attention back to her. "I get it. More than you'd probably believe, I get it. You don't wanna admit you're out of your depth, 'cause you don't want people knowing you're vulnerable. But being here, in Storybrooke, with Henry, Snow, David, and any number of good people I'm lucky enough to call friends, has taught me something." Regina finally looked up at this, her gaze studiously hard as she seemed to be expecting to hear another one of the useless platitudes that had been offered her time and again. Emma recognized the look. Hell, she'd invented the look. "It's taught me to trust people. Just hear me out... I'm just saying that it'll be painful, like digging out a splinter that's been healed over and become a part of you. It'll be terrifying. And you might even get stung a few times anyway, for all your efforts."

"If you're trying to comfort me, I'd advise you stick to your sheriff's duties," interjected Regina. "You're better at that, I should hope."

"But it _will_ be worth it," continued Emma, not taking the bait. "After all, what's the use of being so guarded if you've got nothing worth protecting?"

"She's right," added August. "I've been practically everywhere in this world and yours, and if your'e going to trust anyone, it should be this group of remarkable people."

"I'll take that under advisement," replied Regina flatly, sounding more like the mayor than she had most of the day. But Emma saw the shift of expression behind her eyes and knew Regina hadn't entirely blown off what she had to say.

Emma sat back, signaling she wasn't going to push for more than baby steps out of the brunette, and put her boots up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. "So, you saw Henry to bed no problem. Have any other trouble?"

Regina nodded, glad for the change of subject. "We had a very pleasant evening." She glanced upstairs. "He's a very special boy. You must be quite proud."

Emma blinked, not used to seeing such open warmth come from the woman. "Back at ya. I'm not sure how much credit I can take for that, though. You - the other you - were the one there for all the tough stuff. The skinned knees and fevers, as I believe you said." She was surprised at eh lack of venom in her voice. It was strangely easy to admit as much with this Regina and Emma couldn't help but wonder if she would have even stuck around in Henry's life if the mayor hadn't been such an insufferable harpy, and more like this, when they'd first met. Of course, if Regina had remained _this_ woman, there wouldn't have been a curse to begin with, so she figured the point moot.

Emma let the admonition hang in the air as she could tell there was something else Regina was struggling to bring up. She'd learned the tactic from years of the state mandated therapy sessions every foster kid got, and while she'd seen through the trick at the ripe old age of eight, she was relatively certain Regina was not familiar with it.

Sure enough, like a frightened animal backed into a corner, the issue bothering Regina timidly poked its head out when it was clear Emma had backed off. "It happened again."

"What happened?"

"Memories and..." she began, still hesitant to elaborate.

"Magic?" supplied August.

Regina nodded and Emma's spine went ramrod straight, as if she were expecting a fight. "That's what that blue light coming from upstairs was, wasn't it?! Is Henry okay?" she asked, alarmed.

"Oh! No, no. He's fine. It wasn't destructive. It was actually kind of... comforting," replied Regina.

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Comforting?"

Emma and August exchanged looks. Neither knew how Regina had come by her magic but they knew it was supposed to be black. Until Snow came back, neither was sure what to think. "So..." began Emma. "Like... good, er, fairy magic or whatever?"

Regina drew in a breath, and shook her head in a non-plussed fashion. "I think so... but I fear I don't know much about such things. The only magic I've personally seen is my mother's, and now that we know it came from the Dark One... " She rested her elbows on the couch's arm rest, her chin propped in her palms as she wrapped her hand over her mouth in worry. "Gods... what if... I don't want to like it but..." She drew in another breath, this one more ragged than the last as her heart began to pound anew. "What if - what if I can't - _won't_ - get rid of it? Is this how dust fiends start, you think?" She was clearly mostly talking to herself at this point. Her eyes darted back and forth. "What if I was some kind Daydreaming fiend?"

Emma couldn't help the bark of a laugh that escaped her lips, earning her a look from August that clearly indicated she wasn't helping. "What?! How bad could _daydreams_ be?"

"It's just slang - people addicted to dark unicorn dust," replied August.

"What? Like, their horns or something?" asked Emma.

August nodded. "Just the black ones, of course," he said, as if that much should have been clear.

"Right, of _course_," Emma said, nodding sarcastically. "How silly of me. You know, I think I was sick on that day in second grade where we went over the unicorn sciences." It was at this point that she noticed Regina only seemed to be half-following what they were saying as she was lost in her own thoughts, likely rationalizing as best she could. It seemed to be a very old survival trick of hers - one that served her not-so-well in her later years as she became adept at blaming others for bringing misfortune upon themselves, when it was truly at her hands. Still, Emma got it - it was probably the only reason the woman had survived with any sense of self-worth with Cora as a mother. In any case, it was helpful now, as it was keeping Regina from realizing some pretty awful things about herself - or the woman she became, anyway. But if this turned out to be a long-term, or permanent state, Emma knew Regina would have to be broken of the self-delusion habit quickly. If she wasn't, there was no way she wouldn't eventually fall into the darkness again.

She put a hand on the former witch's shoulder, snapping her attention back to the present. "Hey... Regina. Look at me." She waited a moment and the other woman finally brought her eyes to meet her's. "I won't say I knew you very well... you were very protective of yourself," she added quickly, to hedge off any questions as to why Emma wouldn't know the woman raising her son. "And I get that. Probably even more than you do in your... state. But I know you weren't any kinda... dust fiend or whatever. "

"How can you be certain?"

"Well, for one, there aren't any unicorns here..." she said with a chuckle. "But more importantly, if there's one thing I know about Regina Mills, it's that she's in control. And addicts are anything but. I don't know what you were in the Enchanted Forest - maybe you had a problem with magic." Her face screwed up with a thought and she looked over to August. "Is that a thing there?"

The meaning of 'thing', Regina could only guess, but she knew her mother. "Cora was seduced by magic. She could not give it up no matter how father and I pleaded. Of course, I had no idea it was in her blood until today."

"My point is, however you came by your abilities, clearly it wasn't the same way. You're not marked," she reasoned, thinking back to Cora's hands after she was tainted.

"But even Rumplestiltskin appears untainted in this realm," reason Regina.

"Ok, well... either way, my point still stands. No magic, no unicorns, no imps. _No. Magical. Addicts._ So stop worrying over something you can't change anyway. All it'll do is drive you crazy."

"I've felt crazy since I woke up in the woods," replied Regina.

Emma returned a knowing smirk. "Me too. Forr about a week now. You'll get used to it."

"If I must." Regina sighed. "Which seems to be the case."

The turn of the front door's knob interrupted any further discussion. "Well, how did it go?" asked Emma.

Snow simply sighed as David hung up his jacket. "As well as could be expected. Though this thing that keeps killing animals around town... I'm getting a bad feeling."

"A wolf?" asked August.

"No wolves in Storybrooke," replied Emma. "Supposedly. Couldit... could it be Graham's wolf?"

"Not unless it breathes fire," replied Snow. "And granted, I didn't know him for long back ho- in the Enchanted Forest... but I don't think that was the case."

"Breathes fire?" asked Emma.

"It seems however the tied up animals are being 'liberated' to become lunch, leaves behind scorch marks," replied Snow.

"Sounds like a drake," said Regina.

"A drake?" asked Emma.

"A small dragon," clarified Snow.

"We had one that almost decimated our peasant's stock not long ago..." Regina's face crumpled, though she quickly threw up a mask. "Or... many years ago, I suppose. This strange realm... even with Snow being... it's easy to forget..." She offered a smile, but her embarrassment, and deeper sorrow, still seeped through the cracks.

Snow offered her an understanding smile. "I know. And I think you may be on to something." She turned to the others. "This may be a drake, or a wyvern or-"

"Dragon?" interjected Emma. She shrugged. "I killed one. It's not such a stretch that there might be another. Who knows what... the mayor … had hidden under there." Emma studiously kept her gaze away from Regina, whom, although she noticed, decided now wasn't the time for more of her questions.

"Or she's still alive," offered David. At their looks, he shrugged. "It's magic - and she was a dark fairy. Who's to say-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Snow, resolute. "In the meantime... I think Emma has something a little more pressing to discuss..."

"_Thanks_," drawled Emma, sarcastically.

"Pressing?" asked David.

Emma stood up and crossed her arms. "Right. Ok." She scratched the back of her head nervously and then braced her hands on the back of a dining room chair.

"_What_?" asked David.

"It's Gold," she replied, not certain where to start.

"The favor."

She nodded. "He..." she glanced upstairs, toward where Henry was sleeping. "We should step outside."

"What is it?"

"Not here," Emma whispered back, intensely, her eyes making daggers at the door.

"Alright," replied David with a frustrated sigh. "Why do I get the distinct impression I'm not going to like this?"

"Because you're just as intelligent as you are charming," replied Snow, following her husband, daughter, and former stepmother out the door, August on her heels.

"Buttering me up? Now I _know_ I'm not going to like it." The door clicked shut behind August, who was the last out.

"Right..." began Emma, stuffing her hands into her jean pockets, her eyes locked on the floor. "Henry's father... Gold wants me to bring him back to Storybrooke."

David's brow furrowed. "Henry's father? Why-"

Emma's gaze locked dead with David's. "He's his son," she growled. "He's Rumple-_fucking-_stiltskin's son."

David's heart was rended by a flash of icy cold.

* * *

**A/N:** Sam Bellamy and the Wydah is indeed real. Fascinating pirate ship, and yes, he was called the pirate prince, as he and his men stole from the rich and gave some to the poor, Robin Hood style.


	18. Kicks and Nudges

**A/N: **Here's hoping everyone still seems in character as nerves fray, and not manic, in this to **Anonymous Nerd Girl**, **Dracomom**,** Miss Poisonous**,** fan girl 666**,** Once. Evil. Regal**,** Mlle. Phoenix Fox** for reviewing! And to the rest of you, thanks for continuing with me on this little journey! :)

**Miss Poisonous****: **The show hasn't exactly explored the nature of magic for the OUaT universe, but I have a feeling that natural magic is neither good nor bad - it's all about how you use it. As opposed to those who took magic (the Dark One, Cora, etc). Power corrupts and all that. Regina had it in her all along, after all. It was why she made use of it that took her to the dark side, so to speak (and with Rumps as a teacher, how surprising is that?). And 2x01 kinda confirmed the show's previous hints that Emma may have magic herself.

I'll leave it at that, because that's the kind of discussion I created my Twitter/Tumblr page for (Comment. We'll talk. No big whoop ;) Twitter: minor_shan, Tumblr: storybrookepigeonpost). But as for your comment about her regressing, I'd say ep 2x02's title sums it up nicely: We Are Both. But when your hand is forced, you've got to choose a side.

**Dracomom: **Check out National Geographic's "Expedition Whydah" exhibit if it comes to your town. Fascinating, sad, and you get to handle real pirate gold. I think Black Sam's nickname, the pirate prince, must have burrowed its way into my subconscious, because I don't even know where the idea for the story of a pirate prince came from, but that's indeed what he's deemed by historians, and his crew considered themselves the 18th century version of Robin Hood's merry men.

* * *

**Last time: **

_"Right..." began Emma, stuffing her hands into her jean pockets, her eyes locked on the floor. "Henry's father... Gold wants me to bring him back to Storybrooke."_

_David's brow furrowed. "Henry's father? Why-"_

_Emma's gaze locked dead with David's. "He's his son," she growled. "He's Rumple-fucking-stiltskin's son."_

* * *

**Chapter 18: Kicks and Nudges**

Regina blinked. Had Emma, a _princess_, really just said that word? And her mother, _little Snow_, let her get away with such salty language without a hint of ire? She shook her head at herself, almost chuckling silently to herself, truly baffled that that was where her mind had gone first. Stiltskin was the most dangerous being she could imagine, and his involvement, no matter how unintentional, was most certainly worth a few choice curses.

"Well, I'm glad the news can make _someone _happy," remarked Emma, sarcasm dripping thickly from her lips.

Regina looked up, quickly realized that she was, in fact, wearing a smirk. The renewed hardness in Emma's voice, that she hadn't heard directed at her since they'd just met earlier that day, quickly did a fine job of wiping the expression from her face. "I - rather - no..." She huffed out a frustrated sigh at herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd stammered so much. She thought she'd grown past such shows of weakness, thanks to her mother, but this entire situation seemed to keep her perpetually flustered. "_No_. I wasn't laughing at what you - suffice it to say, I had a rather ridiculous thought. My apologies. I could never laugh at-" it was that moment that the true repercussions of what Emma had just said truly sunk in. "Gods, that's awful! Did he trick you?" she blurted out.

Emma shook her head. "No. Well, yes, but not in some..." she snapped her hand back and forth, searching for the words.

"Not in a being seduced by a sexy bull, Zeus style kind of deception?" supplied August, earning him a glare from David and an eyeroll from Snow. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning a cough, and doing his best to shrink back from any confrontation. _'Oh, right. Parents. Not big on the making light of their daughter's misfortune. Or sex life, probably.' _A lifetime of palling around with orphans, and later, almost exclusively adults who were perpetually childless vagabonds, hadn't exactly honed his skills when it came to navigating the minefield that was a parent's sensitivity where their child was concerned.

Emma nodded at August, seemingly oblivious to her parent's reaction. "Basically, yeah - but _holy-_" she punctuated the sentiment with a noise of disgust and a not so gentle punch to the arm, to which David smirked proudly. "Did you have to put it _that _way?" She shook her head. "Look. I thought he was a good guy, and he _wasn't. _Now it turns out he's not just a run of the mill bastard, but a magical one."

"He has magic?" asked Regina. She had always considered it a blessing that she'd not inherited powers from her mother, but with the revelation that Cora's power had been stolen from the Dark One, along with a few other revelations, she now wondered if that was actually the case. If the Dark One's son did, then it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. She still had no idea what Cora may have subjected her to as an infant. She pushed the thoughts away. She was a good person. That's all that mattered, right?

"Not as far as August and I can suss out," Emma replied. "We think he has some kind of ability to sense magical stuff."

"Or really, anyone from our realm. It's just that only those of us who got here without surfing the curse wave retained any magic to be drawn to. Until the curse broke anyway. I don't think you folks have noticed anything different since your memories were gone - and then magic came back."

"Why do _you_ know anything about Baelfire?" asked David, his voice low and calculated.

"I- or we-" began August.

"You _knew_ that Rumplestiltskin's son - the _Dark One's_ son - was out there, and you haven't so much as said a _word_," interrupted David, the calm of his manner belying the dangerous undertones in his voice.

"Not-"

"A _week_ you've had and you sit on something _so_ vital - something that could be a lurking danger to my _family_ and-"

"_Everyone's_ family, David," Snow interjected, placing a firm hand on his sword arm in an effort to calm her husband. "Including Gepetto and Archie. _His _family." David's jaw was tensed tightly but he remained silent, so Snow continued. "Which I'm _certain_ means he had a good reason." Though not a ticking time bomb, the glare she shot August made it quite clear she expected him to not make a liar of her, lest she join David in his outrage. "Right?"

August licked his lips nervously, but Emma quickly spoke up before he had formulated a response. "Let's reel it in, people. I've already given him a verbal assbeating - so can we jump ahead, please?"

David's shoulders, though still tense, dropped just enough to indicate he would abide by his daughter's wishes. At least until August had attempted to explain himself.

A tense silence followed and Regina moved back to the door. "Perhaps I should go..." In her experience, family disputes were explosive, or even violent and dangerous at times. Of course, that was a family with Cora at the head.

"No," replied Snow, resolutely. "This matter concerns all of us."

"I don't see how," said Regina, genuinely.

"You're family," offered Snow, as if that should be a given, meaning she had every right to be a part of their deliberation.

Regina began to shake her head in protest, but Emma returned the motion. "Doesn't matter if you want it, or even like it. You're Henry's mom too," she began, her brow knitting ever so slightly. "Memory or not, the kid is gonna expect you to be a safe harbor when things get tough - and they will, trust me, nothing is ever zsimple around here - just as much as the rest of us. There's nothing worse in this world for a kid than having the people who are supposed to take care of him not being there to guide them through the tough stuff." From her tone it was obvious she spoke from a deeply personal part of her past. "And you can't do that if you don't know what's up."

Regina nodded silently. The logic was sound, but to call the thought of being thrust into parenthood, without any experience, daunting was an understatement. So far, she'd played a game, cut his hair, and put the child to bed. A wet nurse had more experience to draw on than her. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but I would be honored to do what I can," she said finally, drawing on her schooling in diplomacy to make it clear she wasn't comfortable with the responsibility. Still, it was the truth, and she got the distinct impression that Emma not only believed it, but could sympathize.

Emma and August went through a quick rundown of their history with Baelfire, tag teaming the narrative as they explained how they'd come to their conclusions and what they believed to be the best way to handle the situation. Or as best they could come to after only roughly an hour going over files and internet searches on the sheriff's station computer.

"I gather Henry doesn't know about his father," offered Regina.

Emma shook her head, scrunching her shoulders awkwardly.

"Not the truth," added Snow flatly.

David raised an eyebrow at this. There were still a lot of things that Snows knew that he didn't, thanks to Mary Margaret's relationship with Emma before the curse broke.

"What _does_ he know?" asked Regina and David as one. They exchanged a glance - David bemused, Regina simply surprised that they both seemed out of the loop.

Emma sighed uncomfortably. Explaining herself was something she'd cut out of her life the day she'd stepped out of jail, and was finding it made her feel like a teen again. Worse yet, it brought her back to the girl that had tried so hard to be liked, and shrunk back from confrontation, preferring invisibility to being noticed. Being noticed meant torment by her peers, after all. If Bailey had taught her one thing, it was how to move past that. First, by being an amazingly magnetic person - a person who made her feel like he was her whole world. If _he _saw something to covet in her, she could believe there might just be something special about her. It was also what had made his actions so much more devastating than any other rejection in her life - aside from her parent's of course; not the ones that had left her as an infant, but the ones who had given her back when she was just a toddler. He and they... they'd known her. And they'd wanted nothing more than her erased from their lives. But his rejection had cemented the second part of that lesson: she could charm the best of them, so why not use it to get her desired prize and then skip away before her mark realized whatever they saw in her was Fool's Gold. _'If you can steal hearts, you can steal anything',_ as Bay used to say. It was how she made her less than honest way in the world after jail, and later, was what made her so good at bagging bail-skipping scum. And so terrible at opening up to her family. Half-truths were far less scary than opening up. "I told him that his father was a firefighter. And that doing that..." She cleared her throat nervously. "And that he died."

David nodded. "You made him a hero."

Emma was taken aback. She'd expected some kind of disdain from him. Or disappointment at the very least. She looked up from under her lashes to meet his eyes, her expression still guarded. "I wanted to give Henry proof that good could win. Even if it didn't include a happy ending." It sounded a lot less hokey now that the whole fairy tale thing had panned out, and she was brought back to the talk she and Mary Margaret had had, right before she'd stepped out on stage to debate Glass during the sheriff's election campaign. "I figured that when he finally saw that I was no 'saviour', that didn't mean they weren't in the world. And it didn't mean _he_ couldn't be someone's hero. So he didn't have to be ashamed of where he came from." Her throat was tight with emotion and she looked back down at the floor, relieved that at least her complexion hadn't betrayed her by breaking out into some kind of girlish blush.

She felt a warm hand rest itself on her shoulder and was surprised to find Regina regarding her with sympathetic, understanding smile. "Well, if I'm understanding things correctly, your concerns about not living up to being a hero seem fairly unfounded."

A soft chuckle bubbled up from Emma's throat. "I guess so." Her reticent tone plainly told everyone that she was still having a hard time believing such a thing about herself.

"Ditto," Snow added with a smile.

Emma gave the slightest shrug of acknowledgement before looking up, the focus back in her eyes. "Yeah, well, getting back to business - what do we tell Henry? I may not have seen the guy for a decade, but as far as I can tell, Bailey doesn't seem to have turned over a new leaf. I can't just leave without telling him why. And he's a smart kid. He's going to want to know why August and I know where Gold's son is."

August shrugged. "Why tell him before we leave? I mean, we don't even know if we'll be able to get him back to Storybrooke."

"You do realize the kid's just gonna stowaway if I don't say something, right?" replied Emma.

"Lies of omission are still lies," said David as he gave August a hard look. "I think this is the part where you leave it up to his family to decide." He crossed his arms gesturing towards the exit with a sharp jut of his chin.

August cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. Message received loud and clear." He was doing his best to seem nonchalant but the prince had a way, when he wanted to, that made the man feel like he was seven years old again, despite being physically older than David. He turned his gaze to Emma. "Tomorrow morning?"

Emma nodded. "I don't even know what the hell is gonna be on my docket tomorrow, so let's just say, don't call me,_ I'll _call you." A quick nod and August made a brisk exit.

David shot Snow a small, self-satisfied smile, to which his wife could only roll her eyes. "What?"

"Later," replied Snow. While her nickname for him often hit the mark, there were still times she thought that the initial sarcasm of it rang true too.

"My time here under the curse, as Nolan, taught me the value of honesty," David launched at Emma as soon as August was out of earshot. "In word _and_ in action. You need to tell him."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Cool your jets there, Grandpa," replied Emma, purposely throwing the moniker he only seemed to like when coming from Henry at him. "I may have been a lot of things in life, but a bald-faced liar ain't one of them."

"I believe Henry would have something to say about that," he replied sternly.

Emma let out a frustrated huff of air. "Really? You're gonna try and guilt trip me for sparing the kid with a harmless white lie?"

"If that's what it takes to get you to make the right decision, then yes!" he shot back. "God knows this guy seems to have a way of making you make bad decisions."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Emma asked in a harsh tone she struggling to keep from being a yell.

David took a step back and shook his head. "Never mind. It's just like... father like son. He's _that_ _imp's_ son. It's not fair to expect you to have escaped from his schemes when I was drawn in just the same but Rumplestiltskin."

"Which makes Henry '_that imp's'_ grandson! Do you even realize what you're implying?!"

"How can you defend that guy after what he put you through?" asked David incredulously. "Never mind the bad boy crap - he _tainted _your child!"

"David..." warned Snow. She was afraid it might go this way. Charming might have been born with a prince's nobility, but he'd never been educated in the words of one. He was the sharpened point on her diplomatic words. It made them a great team, most of the time, but when left to his own devices... well, not every fault in David Nolan had been created by the curse.

Emma shook her head. "Do you even realize what you're saying?! He didn't taint Henry - half of Henry _is _him! I'd think the farm boy who made good and became king would understand that blood doesn't have to mean squat!"

"It's magic - you wouldn't under-"

"But I would," said Snow, cutting off her husband. "And Emma is right. This is _Henry_ we're talking about! Without him, where would we be, hmm?"

"And that's what makes him amazing. But Emma said-"

"I can't believe you've actually got me _defending_ that jackass!" Emma shot back. "I've held nothing but disdain for that 'man' since the day he showed his true colors. And I... now I don't even know what to do with it because half of him is in Henry and I can't see even an _ounce _of the awfulness that was in his father! But I can see other things. And it's torn me up inside long before today!" Her upper lip and nostrils trembled in sorrowful rage as she spoke. "_Maybe_ you could _see_ that if you didn't _insist _on keeping me behind some massive overprotective shield!"

"Magic is different! You saw what the Dark One's magic did to Cora just a few hours ago!"

"And what it didn't do to me," interjected Regina. "I've been touched by it just like this Baelfire was. Our parents were cursed with dark magic _after_ we were born." She absently ran along the scar in her upper lip. "We were touched by it, but not tainted by it."

"Are you so sure of that?" replied David hotly, earning him a shove from Snow to break his stare down with the former Evil Queen.

"David!" cried Snow in outrage.

He looked down in surprise at his wife, then back up at Emma and Regina; one flabbergasted, the other... wounded. Still, he was tired of other people deciding what was best for his family, and as the Evil Queen and the Mayor, Regina's hand had been in a lot of it. Too much of it.

He saw the mask fall across Regina's face a moment too late to guard against his seeing her hurt feelings."I don't think so. I _know _so. I may not remember raising the boy in there, and I won't make light of what makes a mother by pretending that I am that woman, but spending just a few hours with him I can tell he's lost. But I know that look in his eye, because it's the same one I've seen in the mirror every day of my life. And you might want to figure out how you're going to get past whatever issues you have with the people in his life he cares about, because even if they don't obey you, children _do _listen, and you issues with August, and now Henry's actual father? You're making him choose. And even I can tell Henry doesn't have many people in his life. He shouldn't be forced to choose between them."

"That's rich," David replied hotly. "When you come from a family like yours? Want to take a stab at how his life ended up that way?"

"I don't play games with people who hold all the pieces," replied Regina darkly. "So no. But I'd watch my words if I were you. It's starting to look like our families have more in common than you ever realized." She swallowed hard. "Look, I don't know what is going to... or rather, I'm gathering, _I've _- or the other me did - but I can tell she did some regrettable things with my life. Maybe worse that just regrettable. But _I _am a good person. I can't defend against what I don't know, but I do know my mother's evil is _not _in my blood. Nor is it in Henry's. The things his father may have done are despicable, but his blood is not to blame." With this, she seemed to deflate. "I'm tired..." she stated flatly, though the glisten of her eyes betrayed the real truth. "I'd rather just... good evening," she finished with a polite bow of her head before quickly ducking back inside the apartment.

"I didn't mean to..." began David.

"But ya did," Snow said, cutting him off. She and Emma shared a silent exchange, seemingly coming to some kind of agreement and David pushed down the irrational jealousy fluttering to take hold at their silent understanding. He was just doing what was right, and somehow he had managed to alienate the two women who were his world in one fell swoop.

"I can't help being a father!" he protested.

"Yeah... _that's _a whole other conversation," Emma shot back. "One I'm way too tired to have right now. But I'll give you a little preview: _I'm_ sorry you missed it. _You're_ sorry you missed it. We're _all _sorry. But I don't need a protector any more. I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself." She and Snow crossed their arms, unconsciously mirroring each other, though he guessed each was irritated with him for different reasons.

Those little things normally warmed his heart, but at the moment, all he saw was a united front. He knew the time to yield in a battle when he saw it. "You know, it's not fair to gang up on a lone fellow. This should be against the rules at least until Henry is 18 and I have another man on my team." He could see by the reluctant twinkle in Snow's eyes that he'd managed to save his skin for the moment, though he still had trouble reading Emma.

His daughter's tongue darted across her lower lip as she stuck her jaw out in a familiar obstinate expression; it was the same he'd worn many times himself when out of his depth, but still trying to play the part of the brave prince. "I'm serious," she said, her voice soft, but tone firm.

David nodded. "Hey, we both said we'd be patient with the other one when it came to the tough stuff. And I'm a man of my word. I never break a pinky swear."

Snow's brow furrowed even as she smirked at Emma. The blonde simply shrugged. "Hey, I figured if I could get him to do that..."

"Riiight," drawled Snow, clearly not buying the unnecessary excuse, but she returned her attention to Charming. "Just make sure you take plenty of honey in your tea, Charming. Between the two of us, it looks like you'll be doing a lot of talking the next couple days."

"You mean the three of you," he replied. "I think I need to apologize to Regina. I meant everything I've said here and to the town council. She's not the Regina I'm angry with, and I need to make that clear. It's just this whole situation has me... I don't want to fall back into being Nolan."

"I'd suggest giving her a night to cool off," said Snow. "She may not be evil, but she always had a defensive temper."

"Oh, is that why all the fake apologies came the next morning?" asked Emma wryly, earning a chuckle from Snow, who had been privy to the stories of apple baskets and insults veiled as 'favors' and 'advice'.

Issues firmly sent back to the backburner, David could tell Emma was feeling comfortable enough for him to attempt to finish his point. His fists resting akimbo on his hips, he let out a tense sigh and met his daughter's eyes. "Look. All I was trying to say was that Henry is going to find out. It was different when he was just some guy who didn't even know he had a kid out there. But there's no way Gold is going to rest until he gets what he wants - his son in Storybrooke. My father died before I even found out he'd sold my twin brother to Rumplestiltskin, and it hurt more than I can say that my mother was going to keep that from me until they day she died if she could have. And while I still love her to the deepest depths of my heart, I felt betrayed that day. And I don't want Henry to feel that way with you. You need to tell him."

Emma nodded. "And I agree," she replied flatly. "But that's not the point. Look, all I'm looking for here is a little guidance from the two people who have had to make the toughest choices over and over again and managed to choose right every time. The fact that you're my folks... well, that's just lucky for me, I guess, right?" She hated that she never quite seemed to manage to cut the vulnerability out of her voice with the sentimental stuff, but did her best to ignore the voice inside setting off alarm bells at the display.

"I wouldn't say we always made the right decisions," replied Snow, thinking back to the forgetting potion, betraying Regina's secret, and all the little failings in-between.

"But we were lucky that they worked out. Not always for the best..." added David.

"But they worked out," finished Emma. "That's the important part. At least, that's what I tell myself every time I regret ever getting suckered by Bay. I mean, I got Henry out of the deal. Hell, I got my whole family back because of it."

"And that's what you need to tell Henry," replied David resolutely.

"I'm sorry. Tell him...?"

"My mother... when things were at their worst. Like when I was facing down my first dragon," he shot a knowing smirk at Emma who mirrored it back. "Or thought I had lost Snow forever..."

"Which time?" snarked Emma.

David half rolled his eyes but smiled. "Mostly the first two times. Finding her was old hat by the time of the glass coffin debacle. Anyway, I'd wonder and wish that she'd told me, or that both my parents had really, of my brother. Perhaps I would have been better prepared. Perhaps we could have run. Perhaps I wouldn't have lost her... but then I look at what I got out of it; my wife - your mother - and I look at you, and now Henry, and I wouldn't change a thing. My mother used to say, if you hate that it happened, then you hate what you are. And I don't. And I most certainly love what I have. What I'm saying is, there's literal truth, and the truth of the heart."

"And you want me to tell Henry the truth of my heart?"

David nodded. "He came from something good in your heart, didn't he? Even if it isn't in there any more?"

Emma sighed. "Yeah... as much as I hate the guy, I loved him then. Or, at least, I thought I did. I guess I loved what he made me see in myself? And who I could be." A strange look shadowed her face; something between confusion and amused realization. "Of course, I thought that was all bullshit, just like him, until I came to Storybrooke and a few people showed me otherwise."

"Until you met Henry." Emma gave Snow a lop-sided, sad smile which her mother returned. "And if I may say so, I think we just found the truth that Henry needs to hear. As long as he has that, it doesn't matter who the sperm donor was."

"Eeehhhgh," replied Emma with a laughing groan. "Working a little blue tonight, Mare?"

Snow shrugged. "Hey, just trying to keep things from getting too mushy."

"Ah, so it's my fault!"

"No. Just keeping my word," replied Snow, crinkling her nose in amusement. "Don't swear me to promises you don't want me to keep!"

"Speaking of promises..." began Emma, hoping Snow's suggestion that David could never say no to her was correct. The idea was so foreign, she'd think it was a myth if she hadn't seen so many girls who had their father's wrapped around their fingers. Even if she figured she was owed more than a few of those daddy-daughter requests, she still felt strange even asking. She turned to David. "I need you to promise you won't go avenging my honor, or whatever it is you white knight types do, when I bring Bailey back here. It won't be good for Henry, and frankly, if anyone is gonna kick his ass, _I'm_ first in line."

David furrowed his brow. "I prefer to not make promises I don't know I can keep."

Emma laced her fingers together in a begging pose. "Oh please Papa!" she pleaded with sarcasm so thick she could lay bricks with it. "I promise I'll let you take a swing at him if after I get mine in!" She hoped using the family term, coupled with the tempting offer would be enough of a carrot on a stick.

Despite the almost mocking tone, David couldn't help but melt when the 'P' word had come from his daughters lips, telling himself he was getting a small glimpse of what a teenaged Princess Emma would have been like; a handful. "Just so you know, I know what you're doing. And it'll probably work every time." He'd take what he could get, and if sarcasm was the only way he was going to hear his daughter call him Papa, or Dad, or even Father, he'd take it. Even cherish it. Because for now, that was their way. "For you and Henry... I swear on my honor that I won't go vanquishing him. At least not without your permission. But I can't promise to like him."

Emma gave him a nod. "Hey, I only ask for favors - not miracles. Even if it's gonna take one for my talk with Henry to go well."

"We can be there if you..." offered Snow.

"No... I think this is one of those things I have to do alone." She sighed. "Parenting sucks sometimes. No wonder you put me in that wardrobe."

"Emma..." began Snow, and the pain in her voice instantly made Emma regret the remark.

"Hey! No - that was a joke. Uh, sorry," she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

Snow tried to offer her an understanding smile. "It's alright... parenting sucks sometimes. Especially when your kid is a smartass."

Emma chuckled. "Yeah, I can't imagine where I get that from..."

"The milkman," replied Snow darkly.

"That's not funny," replied Emma.

"You're right. There weren't any milkmen in the Enchanted Forest. It was the butcher."

"You told me it was the baker!" David replied in mock outrage.

Snow scrunched her nose. "Maybe the candlestick maker...?"

Emma shook her head. "_Still_ not funny."

"No. But now we're even," replied Snow.

"Ok, ok, I deserve that..."

"But seriously, Emma... I think you should rip that band-aid off before you have time to over-think it," said Snow. "Like David said, the best thing you can do is prepare him."

"Yeah... I know. I don't like it, but I know." Emma glanced back at the door. "Alright, well, I'd better get back in there and talk to Regina before she finds something she shouldn't and Hulks out or whatever."

Snow nodded. "We'll make ourselves scarce. Well, as much as we can with a curtain for a bedroom door."

"That reminds me, I'm thinking it's about time we talk to August about building us some proper walls and a door," said David.

Snow shot him a quizzical look. "And just like that Pinocchio is forgiven?"

"I didn't say I was going to pay him," replied David with a mischievous smirk.

"Ah. So it's to be penance by carpentry," said Snow.

"Precisely."

"Sounds fair enough to me," declared Emma with a chuckle. Like it or not, there was a part of her that wasn't happy with August's continually poor choices. So, while she would defend him from blatant browbeatings, she wasn't averse to putting him through a little passive-aggressive labor.

Things settled for the moment, the trio quietly slipped back inside. Although both mother and daughter would rather just end the day, they had their respective tasks that had to be done before they could finally just sleep. Emma watched as her parents retreated to their bedroom, before turning towards the bathroom. Thanks to the semi-opaque glass walls, she could see the light was on, and the shadow of Regina's figure was still. "How did I get roped into this again?" she muttered to herself before knocking on the door. "Regina?"

* * *

**A/N: **What do you say to the woman who isn't the woman who stole your kid? Or to the husband who's too much the man you fell in love with for his own good?


	19. It's Just Hope

**A/N: **Well, I was hoping to get this out before "Tallahassee" and thus before teen Emma's personality was canon. Thankfully, I think it mostly matches up - of course, you, the reader, will be the judge of that, so let me know. But I'm happy to see I was half right about Henry's father and how Emma ended up in jail. I'm still laying my money on the Baelfire thing, though. Because, hey, Neal Cassady is clearly an alias (read Jack Kerouac's "On The Road", or check out my Tumblr account a little later, linked in my author page, to get the reference if you don't know the reference.)

Many thanks and appreciation to readers and reviewers alike. :)

* * *

**Chapter** **19**: It's Just Hope

Emma stood with her knuckles poised over the door, waiting for a response. She could see Regina's silhouette through the frosted glass, and her flinch when she'd knocked the first time. She seemed to just be standing in front of the mirror, though she couldn't tell if she was facing at or away from her reflection. It was something the blonde herself had done from time to time, wondering about her parents, about herself, and what others saw. Whatever the other woman was doing, it could only be putting her into a worse head space.

She knocked again. "Hey, ya fall in?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

That got Regina's attention and she turned toward the door and opened it. "I - I'm sorry, fall into what?" Her eyes were red rimmed but she didn't seem to have been crying; just a tired, a raw nerve. Emma couldn't blame her for that.

She offered the woman a quirked smile. "It's just an expression. And... I don't think you want me to explain it."

"Oh, uh, if you need to use the room, I can..."

Emma shook her head. "No, no." She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Look, I'm gonna head upstairs and get ready for bed. I can pull out whatever Henry brought for you to sleep in, if you'd like."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Just, uh, let me offer a piece of advice, here. I get needing some space, believe me, but try not to hang out too long. Believe me when I say dwelling on this kind of weirdness will just make you crazy."

Regina gave her a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. But I assure you, I'm not dwelling. Just... contemplating."

"Sure, hey, whatever you say," Emma replied with a shrug.

"There's a difference between the two," insisted Regina.

"I said 'whatever you say', didn't I?"

Regina rolled her eyes. _'That's a new one!'_ thought Emma at the expression. _'Better than the old antagonism... not as fun, though.' _"Anyway, I'll get out of your hair..."

The brunette nodded. "Very well. I'll be out shortly."

Satisfied, Emma nodded and turned to the couch to set it up as a makeshift bed, hearing the bathroom door click back shut quietly. After draping a sheet over the couch she began to sift through Regina's pile of clothes on the couch and frowned when she didn't find anything. Probably still upstairs - ten year old boys tended to be forgetful hosts and Regina surely wouldn't have know what to look for.

Her upstairs loft was about half-again the size of the lower floor, but luckily still afforded her some privacy, even with Henry now sharing it. In addition to her bedroom, there was another space that had been converted into a laundry room. Or at least, had been magically created to look like it had been, considering the town was only 28 years old. However that worked, it came with a large alcove built around the hexagonal window, and a reclining couch. Before Emma had moved in, Mary Margaret had frequently eaten her breakfast there as it afforded a wonderfully scenic tree top view of the town. Once Henry had moved in, Emma had offered to take the space, as she'd slept plenty of times in smaller beds, or her car, but the kid wouldn't have it. First, because Emma's room only had two porthole-sized windows too high for him to comfortably see through, but also because he was delighted at the alcove looking much like the one in the kid's nursery in the Peter Pan cartoon. It wouldn't do forever, but for now, the boy was small enough to not feel crowded, even with a washer/dryer for furniture. For Emma, she was happy to keep some privacy, and the room featured one of only three doors in the apartment.

Once upstairs, she quietly opened Henry's door, peeking her head in to make sure he was asleep - and safe; not that she would admit to behavior that she would've considered overbearing if she'd caught her parents doing the same. He was sleeping soundly on the small mattress David had installed earlier that day to replace the couch at the window. Henry's toes peeked out from the end of the blankets he'd cocooned himself in and she smiled at the sight before closing the door back up. Sure enough, there was another set of clothes still sitting stacked on the floor, an elegant blue silk pajama bottom and buttoned top combo - so very Mayor Mills - on top.

Prize in hand, Emma was surprised to hear footsteps as Regina arrived at the top of the stairs. "I didn't see anything that seemed like night clothes downstairs, so..." the brunette offered by way of explanation. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Emma turned around, holding up the silk clothes. "Nope. Right here," she replied as she tossed the outfit to Regina, then made her way over to the side of the bed with her dresser to fish out her own sleepwear.

The other woman caught the clothes, despite the surprise, and continued to the foot of Emma's bed. She held up the garment to examine it. "Are you sure these are mine?" she asked in doubt, taking in the pair of loose pants and top that looked more like a man's short coat. "I mean the fabric is luxurious, finer than any silk garment I've seen, but they don't look like nightclothes."

"Not your cup of tea?" asked Emma.

"I'm more accustomed to a nightgown."

Emma scrunched her nose, trying not to laugh as she pictured the Evil Queen sporting a frumpy floor-length nightgown. Perhaps emblazoned with Garfield declaring he hated Mondays. Ok, well, maybe not in fairytale land. But a black woolen number proclaiming her the fairest of them all? Yes. "A nightgown?" She couldn't quite keep amusement out of her voice.

"_Or_ an undertunic," Regina replied defensively. "In any case, these look far too... well, I'm not sure what, but sleeping in silk seems quite the extravagance. It's impossible to clean!"

"You should try silk sheets."

Regina raised an eyebrow at this but didn't ask, instead, examining the buttons, and sharp lines of lapels. "It's quite theatrical in its look..." Somehow the thing managed to look formal, like one of her riding outfits, yet elegantly loose and billowy. "Severe almost... but not."

Emma shrugged. "Well, you do always like to look pulled together." She slid a drawer shut, a combo of soft cotton pants in hand and began the hunt for a shirt.

Not knowing what to say to that Regina simply laid the silk night clothes on the bed. "If you say so." She quickly undid the buttons of her blouse, setting it aside, and had just figured out and undone the zipper when Emma turned around, tank top in hand.

"Whoa!" the blonde yelped, thankfully quietly, flinging her other hand up over her eyes and spinning back around. "What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath. She'd never been so thankful for bras before - and Henry being a heavy sleeper.

"What?" asked Regina, blatantly confused.

"What do you mean, what? Why are you undressing right _here?_ Haven't you invented modesty in your world?!"

"I could ask the same of this land. I have never seen so many women baring so much of their flesh in public."

"Yeah. Arms. Knees. And maybe a little chest - but the goodies are kept under wraps!"

"I've changed and bathed in front of servants my whole life. It's not like you're a man."

"And this isn't the YMCA locker room. Look, go ahead. I'll just keep my eyes planted firmly at the wall. Just make it quick, before Henry gets his first peepshow from his mom."

"Such strange customs." Regina shook her head but resumed. "How does this strange corset come off?"

"Corset?" asked Emma, almost turning back around as she momentarily forgot why she was facing the wall because of her confusion. She quickly snapped her eyes down. "There should be hooks, or some kinda fastener in the back. Just spin it around..." She was teaching Regina-freaking-Mills how to dress. Well, undress really. If the woman got her memory back she hoped Regina would rather not speak of this again. There was an equally good chance she'd figure out some kind of revenge for the retro-active humiliation. Or hell, maybe she's an exhibitionist. Some of those Evil Queen outfits in Henry's book kinda screamed Goth-Dominatrix. How long was this woman gonna take changing? "Are you decent yet?"

"Just a moment. There."

Emma turned her head slightly, peeking toward Regina out of the corner of her eye. _'Fully clothed blue figure? Check.' _ Regina was still fiddling with the collar and sleeves when Emma turned around fully. "Uncomfortable?"

Regina shook her head. "On the contrary. They're quite... nice. In my world we wear full linen undergarments with silk over them. Not to bed, of course. I've never felt anything like it. I see why I had them - they're far more comfortable than they appear."

"Well, looks can be deceiving in _this_ world."

"Like Henry's father," replied Regina, leveling her gaze at the blonde who shifted uncomfortably. She was reminded of a similar look on Snow's face as a child, thought it was like meeting the mother the child inherited it from, rather than the true situation, as she'd never seen Emma as a child. The constant re-evaluating and shifting her perception was starting to give her a headache. "I'm not naive, no matter how my unfamiliarity with this place may make it seem. It's quite clear you have something to say. And I despise dancing around such matters simply for protocol's sake."

"Right..." Emma chuckled, caught between awkwardness and amusement. _'Not into protocol, huh?'_ She wondered just how much of the Mayor's persona was built simply to manipulate people and how much had really been her. The older, more damaged, her. "Me neither. So... I guess that's two things we have in common."

"Two?" asked Regina, before noting Emma's glances at the adjoining door. "Henry."

Emma nodded. "Look, about David... he's a good guy, he's just also very protective. Not that that's an excuse. But I'll leave the apology to him."

Regina nodded. "I understand you're all quite thin on patience. I do intend to let him squirm a little."

Such a question would normally alarmed her, coming from Regina, but the figure standing before her, with slightly mussed hair, sans makeup, in sock feet and pajamas didn't exactly strike a menacing figure - and that made picking up the playfulness in her tone easier. "Just don't leave him twisting in the wind too long," replied Emma with a small smile.

"I wouldn't," said Regina earnestly. "I must admit, I love my father more than anything, but I do wish he'd show that kind of backbone to stand up for me. Even if it meant he'd be a bit of an jackanape now and again." A pause. "Perhaps this Bailey will be the same."

Emma let out a bitter, but quiet, bark of a laugh. "I should be so lucky."

Regina frowned at the blonde. "You are."

"Lady, if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."

Regina shook her head. This woman was unlike any royal _or _peasant she'd met. Crass enough to make the term 'lady' sound rude yet had also already displayed more noble acts in a single day than she'd seen in any real nobles in her entire life - that she could remember, anyway. She suspected Snow and David had had their share, and she wondered what, if any, role she'd had in those exploits. "You have your family. Reunited against all odds, and they are good people. I've always had a knack for reading people. I can tell. And despite his unfortunate parentage, he might surprise you. People change."

"For the good_ and_ the bad."

"It can't hurt to hold out hope." Emma gave her highly skeptical look. "My father always said that the most important thing a person can have is hope. You give up on that? Only then are you truly lost."

"Tell that to Graham. Or Daniel," mumbled Emma quietly, but in a room where they were already speaking in hushed tones, it rang out clear as a bell, and she immediately regretted letting her tongue slip. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I don't know who Graham is, but I would appreciate you not bringing Daniel into your self-pity. You have no right." Her voice was calm, but dangerous somehow. She drew her posture up. Walls up, mask down, Emma recognized. "Clearly I haven't lost hope simply because I've lost... him." Her voice hitched, not letting her say his name. "I wouldn't still be here if I had when it first happened... And I'm still here because I have to believe that."

Emma nodded. "You know, I'll give you this much... I think you never did. Give up hope, that is." She couldn't tell the woman any more, but she had suddenly realized that every awful thing the Evil Queen had done was rooted in hope. It was a strange revelation - all that horribleness borne out of something that's supposed to be good. She had to wonder if 'good-hearted' Henry senior wasn't the real root to so many people's suffering. Giving his wife and his girl so much kindness, forgiveness, and _hope_, but never truly sacrificing for those convictions. _'Love is sacrifice'_ she heard Snow say. Of course, then there was the other thing Mary Margaret had said; then a sudden realization. She looked up at Regina. "The most important thing is hope... Mar- Snow said that was why she gave Henry his book about your land. Did you tell her that?"

"Not that I recall. But I _am_ missing a few decades of memory..."

Emma absently sunk to sit on one side of her bed. It was no wonder Mary Margaret had kept her head straight and unvengeful - well, mostly. The fairy tales she'd grown up with were no more a reflection of reality than any tv show in this world. And Regina's role in her family was made up of more shades of grey than she could have imagined. "Right." Maybe it was time to forgive, for now at least, even if she couldn't forget. She'd never truly had to confront the Mayor as a real human being before. She was always more the idea of one. She'd protected Regina all this time atHenry's request - never wondering at his deeper reasoning. Nor why Mary Margaret went along with it so easily when David clearly didn't. Regina's humanity was clear now, and it confused the hell out of her. _This_ Regina was the soul that Snow had first known and had been Henry's mother, more or less, for much of his life. And if it was simply hope buried under all the muck crusted over Regina's heart... Emma suddenly realized how lucky she was, indeed. Not because she'd held on to hope, but because Henry, and then Mary Margaret, and then David and the whole town had reignited the flickering ember of hope in her heart just before it had been snuffed out. She groaned, a sneer curling her lips like the tartest lemon. "Why did you have to go and do that?"

"I'm sorry, but I won't apologize for passing on my father's wisdom, even if I don't remember..."

Emma chuckled bitterly again, though she remained staring at the wall. "You just did."

"I apologized for not apologizing. There's a difference," replied Regina indignantly.

"You've always liked your semantics, too." Emma held up a hand, still not turning around, before Regina could protest. "Hey. I get it. Excellent weapon to have in your arsenal. It's one of my own."

"You mean like you just did to me now?"

"No. That's a feint."

"Touche'."

"Exactly," replied Emma with a smirk, Regina showing the same easily, as she knew the blonde wasn't watching.

"Alright. So _now_ what did I do?" asked Regina, the exasperation in her voice not fully quashed.

"Made me remember the guy is human," replied Emma.

The weariness of her tone was clear, prompting Regina to sidle up beside Emma. It reminded the brunette of the few times her father had ever wounded her heart; always unintentional and passive, but his disappointment hurt far more than any magical punishment from her mother. "Though I _will_ apologize for that. Monsters are always easier to hate than people."

Finally, Emma met Regina's eyes again. "He wasn't a monster," she began quietly. "Or at least, if he was, he wasn't the worst of the one's I've known."

"But he hurt you the most."

"How couldn't he? I mean, with Henry..." Emma sunk her face into her palms. "How does the worst thing in your life produce the best thing in your life?"

"That, I wouldn't know. But are you sure it was the worst thing?" replied Regina simply.

* * *

_She loved the way his eyes twinkled in the firelight, the flames making them glimmer a honey-amber brown. There was no need for the fireplace to be on. It being Phoenix and all, it may have been December but Even at this late hour it was barely 60 degrees outside. Still, it made things feel more Christmasty as they lounged on a sheepskin rug on the floor, exchanging stockings. Bailey's wife was out of town for the weekend, so they'd decided to make 'their' Christmas fall on December 22nd. _

_Emma reached into her stocking, her eyes wide as saucers when she found what was on top, pulling out a ring box. "Uh, Bay... this isn't - I mean, I know you said you'd leave her but -"_

_He gave her his patented devilish smirk. "Just open it," he encouraged her._

_Emma grimaced, peeking through her eyelids, as if expecting a spider to leap out. Her face fell into confusion as she pulled the ring out. "Coal?" She held up a plastic ring, a lump of coal mounted to the top of it, as Bailey burst out laughing. _

_"Oh. This is supposed to be funny? " she asked incredulously, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. _

_"I'm sorry!" he said, trying, but failing, to quell his chuckling, Bailey shook his head. "But you should see your face! Besides - I __**know**__ you've been naughty..."_

_Emma tried to scowl at him, but his laugh was always infectious, and the corners of her mouth wouldn't stop curling up. _

_"Don't fight it... there is no resisting the-"_

_"Don't you dare say it!" she warned, getting up from her kneel, leaning forward on all fours before raising one hand, threatening a slap. Her 'baloney smile' he liked to call it, after she'd made him fried sombreros for breakfast the first night he'd slept at her place. It was one of the few things she had in her pantry, but he hadn't made her feel embarrassed for her poverty like so many other guys._

_Bailey threw up his hands in mock fear. "Whoa! I surrender!" Emma dropped her hand, leaving her on all four in front of him. "I've always heard Swans are dangerous - I just thought they were talking about the birds."_

_"Yeah, well this swan bites." She leaned forward until her lips were next to his left ear. "And you haven't even __**seen**__ naughty. You scared?" she whispered._

_"Of my ugly duckling? Do your worst!" He tapped his index finger on his jaw. _

_"Don't tempt me. You have __**no**__ idea what I'm capable of." She bared her teeth and leaned in. Hearing her soft exhale as she moved in, Bailey whipped his head around, intercepting her mouth with his own. She leaned into the kiss for a long moment before taking his bottom lip between her teeth. A devilish smile flickered a moment before she bit down, just hard enough to make it hurt, but not draw blood, and tugged it with her as she drew away. Finally, as she heard his distinct, growly moan involuntarily rumble from his throat she knew she'd hit the mark, and let it snap back. She wore a proud snerk on her face as she sat back, folding her legs under her before her expression sobered. "But seriously, what kind of a present is that?"_

_"A promise." He scooted forward to place his hands over hers, but she quickly shifted them down, intertwining her fingers between the 'fingers' of her candycane striped toe socks. _

_She'd made her display of power over him and now he wanted to ruin it, getting all comforting. Teasing games were an intimacy she could handle; sincere comforting was something she could __**not**__ handle. Especially when she didn't know what he was going to say._

_He sighed, settling for resting his palms on the tops of her thighs. "You know I can't afford a real ring right now. Not like you deserve. But I wanted to get you something to prove my intentions. So... I got you a really young diamond." He winked at her, tilting his head to try and get her to meet his eyes. _

_Emma kept her eyes on the fire, her voice small."Like, you'll be able to leave her when this thing finally becomes a real diamond?"_

_"Em..." Bailey chuckled. "Don't be stupid." Her eyes snapped up, narrowed at him. "There. I knew that would get those gorgeous greens to look at me." Her eyebrow crooked. She felt like she should be annoyed at that trick, but her heart leapt at the idea that he knew her so well. "I want you to see my eyes when I say this. I __**mean**__ it. It's a real promise. As soon as I have the money saved, I'll leave her. You know the divorce is gonna be expensive... I need to squirrel plenty of cash away so the lawyers can't get it. You're my swan princess, and I intend to give you the life you deserve. And I've got some stuff in the remember I told you about it?" Emma nodded. "I'm gonna need your help. In the meantime, keep digging. Your really-real present is in the stocking's toe." He sat back, an encouraging smile on his face. _

_Emma quirked an eyebrow at him, as she stuck her hand back in, pulling out various candies, chocolates, and silly toys. Finally, she pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in metallic yellow paper, emblazoned with red swans. She flipped it around, then gave it a little shake. Nothing. "I swear to God, if this is a can of Spam..."_

_"What do you think I am? Made of money? I am but a humble public servant."_

_"Funny," she said as she pulled back the paper. _

_"Well?"_

_"A phone?" she asked curiously. "You think __**I'm **__made of money? I haven't been able to afford a cell phone plan since Portland. I could have at least eaten Spam." _

_"That's the beauty of it. It's prepaid. We won't have to worry about your number showing up on my phone bill anymore. I have a matching one that Mallory doesn't know about." He leaned forward to flip box in her hands over. "Oh! And look at this! It's this cool new push-to-talk thing!"_

_"As opposed to pull to talk?"_

_He rolled his eyes. "It's really cool." He pulled the small phone from the box. "Look, see, you just press this button and it beeps me. It's like our own little walkie-talkie set, except it works across the country. So we can always find each other."_

_Emma smiled warmly, wrapping her hands around his."I love it." She leaned in to kiss him, this time a gentle embrace of their lips; warm and honey sweet with the wine they'd imbibed. _

_When the kiss broke, Bailey looked back down at the phone. "There's one string attached to this."_

_"Oh? Pray tell."_

_"When we're using the walkie feature, you have to use our call signs."_

_"Are you sure you're __**actually **__older than me, Mr. Fryer?"_

_"That's Senor Sweetbottom to you."_

_Emma rolled her eyes. "God, you're such a dork."_

_"Says the woman in the horn-rimmed glasses," he shot back._

_"Shut up," she replied, and grabbed the collar of his sweater, pulling him into a kiss. "Sweetbottom," she added between kisses._

_"Your wish is my command, Buddy Holly."_

_Emma put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down against the furry sheepskin rug. "You get Sweetbottom and I get a dead guy?" _

_He feigned deep contemplation. "Hmmm. Booby Holly?"_

_"Seriously?" she asked. When she saw him begin to chuckle, she let out a playfully frustrated growl. "You played me! You totally planned that and set me up!" Again, his ability to predict her, and see inside her, was at once thrilling and terrifying, like a roller coaster. _

_"You love it. Admit it."_

_"I admit nothing."_

_Suddenly, he gripped her arms and Emma suddenly found herself flipped and pinned under him. "When will you learn that I always get my way?"_

_"Oh, I don't know. Never?" He pounced on the soft spot between her earlobe and jaw, and her stomach fluttered as if she'd just plunged off said roller coaster's first big drop. _

_He paused, his stubble just barely scratching her skin. "Well? Got it?"_

_"I'm a slow learner."_

_He chuckled into the crook of her neck."I knew there was a reason I loved you."_

_She pulled his mouth to hers, wishing she knew how to say it back in a way that didn't sound unnatural and damaged. She drew in a deep breath through her nose as they kissed before finally drawing back just enough to speak, though their lips still touched."I love you too," she whispered into his lips._

_It seemed to Emma that passion engulfed him like a hungry flame at this. He pushed one hand into her hair, nails running deliciously along her scalp, while the other slid her glasses down her nose, then flung them haphazardly aside. The wish to live in that moment, as she let herself believe, if only for a moment, that she was lovable, was overpowering._

* * *

"We had our moments," replied Emma with a shrug.

"Yes. I'm certain that smile on your lips was brought on by some passionate hand-holding at a summer fair."

Despite knowing the woman couldn't have seen the images flickering in her mind's eye, Emma felt a bit, well, naked. "That's how babies are made, right?" Their shared a quiet laugh.

"Still... Henry deserves to know. Every child does. Trust me, I've become something of a scholar on the subject this afternoon."

"Really? You wouldn't rather just believe your parents had true love?" asked Emma, her voice somewhere between hope and doubt.

Regina nodded. "Warts and all. In my case, it forced me to see my mother as a real person."

"A real _damaged_ person," blurted out Emma. Realizing what she said her brow furrowed sheepishly. "Sorry."

To her surprise, Regina chuckled. "No... you're right." She shrugged. "But who isn't in some way?"

"Fair enough."

"You, for instance, would have your foot terminally stuck in your mouth if your tongue weren't sharp enough to cut it free," appraised Regina flatly.

"Gee. Thanks."

"I think you'd have left my mother in a perpetually aghast to have as a step-great-grandchild." She leaned over to Emma, conspiratorially arching her eyebrow at the blonde. "I think that's why I like you."

Emma blinked. She didn't even know what to say to such an unexpected admission. "Uh.. thanks..." She gave a small shake of her head, as if gobsmacked. "I like you too."

"Seems you just realized that," replied Regina matter-of-factly.

"I..." She sighed. "Our relationship was complicated."

"I'm gathering that about myself..."

"Well, I've set that aside for the moment. We all have." She glanced in the direction of her parents bedroom.

Regina smiled softly. "Well, I'd toast to new beginnings, but.." She shrugged.

Emma held up her hand, miming holding a champagne flute. "To new beginnings."

Regina gave Emma a strange look, as the blonde was essentially playing a grown-up version of a pretend tea party, something Cora would have deemed childish - and immediately followed suite as the thought occured. "To new beginnings," she replied and the two clinked their invisible glasses.

"Cheers."

"For the record," started Emma. "I don't think Henry has any of the same kinds of feelings to set aside."

It was Regina's turn to cast her eyes away in discomfort, and she found herself staring at the boy's door. She frowned. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Emma sighed. "I didn't say it wasn't complicated," she offered.

"Perhaps I'm not the best judge - I don't know him after all - but he doesn't have the look in his eyes for me like I've seen on other children for their mothers. I believe he's trying to hide it, but you can't hide something that isn't there."

"Because you're not his mother," replied Emma. "Not the same woman that is. But if it helps, he's quick to take to it. He's got a huge heart. I couldn't believe how quickly he started to have that look for me."

"Perhaps. But you're correct. I can see he's trying to act normally."

"He's just a terrible actor."

"He's honest," replied Regina. She turned back to Emma. "He seems to genuinely want to do what's right. So, you see, you've nothing to worry about."

"Come again?"

"His father, that part of his father you're so frightened of, isn't there. Kindness comes from within - the malice in people comes from without. You may want to remember that when you meet this fellow. Everyone has a story, and no one is the villain in theirs. Or so I have to believe."

"Yeah," replied Emma and once again Regina felt like she was some kind of specimen to be examined under the blonde's gaze. Emma, for her part, wanted to protest - to say that some things could never be justified. Some people were irredeemable. But here was a very strong argument against that belief sitting on her bed. Yesterday, she would have said Regina was a case of someone who could never change, even if she wanted to, because she was rotten to the core - only deserving of fair justice at best. But, with the rotten layers peeled away, it would seem there was something salvageable at the center. "I'd like to believe so. But can you really believe that about Cora?"

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because she's my mother. And despite it all, gods help me, I still love her. And what kind of a person can be loved if they're not really a person anymore. What would that make me if she's an inhuman monster and I _love_ her?" It was a question that had haunted her for years, though she'd never voiced it aloud before. It sounded melodramatic at best, and at worst, downright selfishly terrible to say about the person who gave you life. Did saying it make her exactly like her mother? "I'm not saying you should forgive him - I doubt I could with my mother - just that Henry deserves to make up his own mind on the matter. With with all the facts about his father. And who knows, he might just make Bae a better person for it. After all, if you can't change for your child, who _can_ you change for?"

Emma nodded. Henry had already done as much for her, and so gradually that she hadn't even noticed the change until Mary Margaret had pointed it out. And even before her magical mindwipe, Regina had at least begun the process of wanting to.

Regina chuckled darkly to herself. "For all I know, that's exactly what I was up to when I locked up half my life from myself and threw away the key."

"So you think it was self-inflicted?"

"I don't want to, but I've the distinct impression that I wouldn't like myself all that much if we met."

"How did that sentence not just make your brain explode?"

"Oh, that collapsed in on itself somewhere between finding Snow a grown woman and finding out I'm a fictional character in a land I didn't even know existed."

"I know the feeling."

"I suppose so." Regina sighed and stood up. "I think it wise if we both get some rest. Perhaps when we wake, this will all turn out to be a dream." There was a part of her truly wishing it was.

"Yeah - I gave up on that one a while ago. But hey, don't give up hope," she remarked with an ironic smirk.

"Good advice." She gathered up her day clothes from Emma's bed. "And with that, goodnight." She'd only gotten one foot onto the stairs when she heard Emma speak up.

"Hey - thanks."

"For what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Not completely freaking out over Henry. The whole sudden mom thing. And don't worry. It gets better. It terrified me too, at first."

"Oh? When did that pass for you?"

"I'll let you know when it happens."

"I hope your job doesn't entail comforting people," replied Regina, shaking her head. "If so, I suggest a new line of work."

"Goodnight Regina," was all Emma offered in response, her voice still laced with humor.

"Goodnight Emma." As she made her way down the steps she found herself wondering how the blonde could read her fear so easily. It irritated her sense of pride in her carefully honed mask, but on a deeper level she liked that she was a house full of people she was close enough to that they could drop that. It was something only her father and Daniel had ever managed. And that scared her almost as much as having motherhood thrust upon her.

As she lay down, she tried to push the thoughts away, and though she failed, she was thankfully too exhausted, in every way, to stay awake more than a few minutes.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, SwanQueen shippers. Didn't mean to tease you! I ship SwanQueen _friend_ship, but I'm afraid that's as far as this will be going.


	20. It's Just a Dream

**Author's Notes:** Those who read my other fic, "The Picture that Took a Thousand Words" may recognize a certain story element that involves Regina in this chapter, and see it as a little reshashy, but rest assured, I stole that idea from my concept for this chapter. So, reverse plagiarism, making it okay, right?

I hope you enjoy reading this chapter just as much as I had fun writing it! :)

**Shoutouts: **To all you good readers, of course! Special appreciation to **Miss Poisonous****, ****fan girl 666****, ****Anonymous Nerd Girl****,** and **Stormy Trix**

**SkullGauddess****: **Well, here's part of an answer to your question. So, let me ask you, once you've read it: _should _you be dreading a future appearance?

* * *

**Chapter 20: **It's Just a Dream

Snow dog-eared the corner of the page she was reading and set the book aside as the sound of Regina walking upstairs to Emma's room faded. She flipped over, propping herself up on her left elbow. David let out a quiet, but exaggerated snore, earning him a sharp poke in the rib from his wife's finger. "Ow!" He pulled himself up into a sitting position, frowning. "You know I was stabbed there!"

Snow rolled her eyes. "28 years ago, you big baby."

"And I haven't played the sympathy card that _whole_ time."

"You were in a coma."

"I'm not getting out of this conversation, am I?" he asked with a resigned moan.

Snow shook her head. "You're not that charming."

"On the contrary. I'm as charming as 've just gotten used to it. Built up a tolerance to it, if you will."

"You're right." She tilted her head to one side as if considering something. "I should go cold turkey." With that, she began to pull back the covers to slip out of bed. David's arm quickly shot out, wrapping around her torso in that gently firm way she'd never known in any other man's touch. She let herself be pulled back and settled next to him.

"Alright, alright. You win." He gave her a peck on the cheek before settling back, propping a pillow behind his back.

"What happened to admitting you were wrong?" asked Snow.

He was relieved her fiery temper didn't seem to be rearing it's head, as she may as well have asked why he hadn't taken out the trash yet, her tone was so mundane. Still, he was going to be taken to task - may as well get it over with. He sighed. "I shouldn't have blown up like that at Regina."

"Or August," pushed Snow.

David scowled. "I won't apologize for protecting my daughter."

"That was punishing him, _not_ protecting her."

"You _can't _bedefending that talking piece of kindling!"

"_Noo_, of course not," she replied, using a tone she'd honed with her students when they were being obstinate, and she was trying to be patient. "What I'm _saying_ is that what's done is done, and while part of me would like to turn him into a box of matches as much as you would, it wasn't entirely his fault. He was just a child."

"Not when he conspired with 'Stiltskin's son. Not when he failed to guide Emma home sooner. Not for the last _week _when he didn't bother to mention that Baelfire is out there - he must have known the imp brought us here to find his son!"

"And how was he supposed to know that? Gold has been nearly invisible and certainly tight-lipped on his role in the curse."

David furrowed his brow. "He still knew the identity if the man she'd... _been _with." Truth be told, the thought of any man putting his hands on the infant he'd held in his arms - _his_ daughter - kind of made him want to slug the guy. But then there was the Nolan in him that remembers a beautiful bombshell of a woman, with a personality to match, and knew she was a woman too, not just his little girl. Thank the gods for small favors, Mary Margaret had been the only woman truly in his eyes, so he'd never noticed Emma's looks beyond an academic level of acknowledgment. "And that he was Henry's father. What if the thug had shown up here on his own with no warning?!"

"First, he said he wasn't positive. Second, Emma clearly has wanted to keep Baelfire in her past, so why scare her unnecessarily?" David opened his mouth to retort but Snow placed a finger over his lips, hushing him. "Finally... Emma has clearly forgiven him. Or at least, let him off the hook. And _we _should respect her wishes."

David's eyes softened as Snow removed her finger. "You're right..." He let out a frustrated growl and crossed his arms over his chest. "Damn it.. Things weren't supposed to be this way."

"I know," answered Snow softly.

"If we were home, I would have been perfectly in my rights to."

"I know," Snow said again.

"And I could have had that imp's son, _and_ August, strung up..."

Snow frowned. "No you wouldn't have. I think a banishment would suffice... besides, I don't know how effective 'stringing up' would be on Pinnochio."

David gave her a melancholic smile. "Burning at the stake then."

"Charming..." Snow warned.

"You know I don't favor execution if another action will suffice. Doesn't mean a father can't dream."

"He certainly can. But he needs to keep it to himself and his wife. Especially around Emma and Henry." Snow laid a hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. "But really, you'd think a poor shepherd boy would have a better head for efficiency. You tie the cheating sleazebag to a stake and use the puppet as the kindling that burns him." David shot her a wide-eyed look. "What? Mothers get to fantasize too. Dreams are for working out what we can't in the waking world." She shrugged and the small smirk fell from her face to make room for the worry crawling across her brow. "But seriously, David... August is trying to pay his dues and redeem himself. We can't just decide to forever condemn him - especially when our daughter, the one he wronged, won't. Wouldn't you want someone else's family to do the same for Emma if the situation were reversed?"

"Of course. And I will. And I'll keep my promise to Emma to follow her lead when it comes to Henry's father. But I don't have to be happy with it."

"Certainly not."

"That goes for everyone."

"Regina."

"She's Henry's mother too."

"Is she though?" he replied, already knowing the answer, despite his heart warring with his head. But, as his mother taught him, what made a lover a partner was that they were the person always by your were the person who knows you best and loves; not in spite of it, but because of it. They're the person you can voice the worst in your heart to and they love you all the more for it, gladly keeping you on the right path when you're tempted to stray. "I mean, technically..."

"It doesn't matter if she's Mayor Mills, or just plain innocent Regina," replied Snow. "For better or for worse, she'll always be a mother to Henry, no matter how any of us wish things aren't as they are."

It was like a light suddenly flickered on for David at this, illuminating something about his wife he'd never seen before. "You still see her that way." He never ceased to be amazed that she could still surprise him.

Snow let out a tired, conflicted sigh. "Part of me does - you don't know how many times I've wished I could go return to the past and tell that little girl that it was all an act. Save her the scar across her heart at her stepmother's betrayal."

"Even when you were trying to kill her?"

"Especially then. I mean, when I had her notched in the sights of my bow, even then... it was more like I was killing the monster that had eaten the woman who I thought had loved me. She still had to die of course. Or so I thought."

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have let you do it..." he said quietly.

"No you don't," replied Snow. It wasn't an accusation. "Because then you would have lost me to a place you'd never find me. Lost forever."

She knew him better than himself, at times, and David knew the truth of what she said the moment it left her lips. "It's the only thing that kept me from doing away with her myself."

Snow nodded. "That said... that's not how it is for Henry. She really loved - _loves_ - him. Even at the worst of it, he knew that deep down." She lifted her temple up off her fist and propped herself up on her elbow. "She was trying to do the right thing, in her own way, sending him to Archie... holding on to him so close he had no friends. I could see it. She'd just forgotten how to love well. She held on too tight. She almost gave Henry no choice but to bring Emma here..."

"That's why you're okay with letting Emma lead the way with this Rumplestiltskin business."

Snow nodded. "We just got our daughter back... I'd rather be there at her side, picking up the pieces than lose her by holding on too tight to what _we _dreamed for her. Cora suffocated Regina, and Regina came close to doing the same to Henry. With Emma... she's her own person; always has been. She needs a light touch. I think that's why she fell for Graham so quickly." She chuckled. "You should have seen when she thought he'd sent her flowers. It was like pouring gas on a fire. She was pissed at him being so bold." Her face sobered quickly. "All she's been through in her life... her first family... Bailey, apparently... every time anyone showed any interest in her, they threw her away when they were done. She doesn't trust it, and frankly, I can't blame her." Snow's voice grew tight, but she talked through it. "She's a spooked horse, Charming. We have to wait for her to come to us. And even then... we can only advise. She's grown. She makes her own choices."

All David could really do was take her word for it, but it was so outside his worldview, it was hard to comprehend. No one had truly betrayed him after earning a place in his heart. Sure, he'd been hurt, and he'd even felt a little betrayed by his parent's secret, but they stuck around to earn forgiveness. He thought back to a few minutes ago in the hallway and Snow and Emma's nonverbal exchange. It was just another of countless such moments he'd witnessed, and he didn't think the pair were even truly conscious of how often it passed between them. He couldn't help the jealousy. But he'd seen a similar cloud pass behind Emma's eyes when she saw he and Snow do exactly the same, and he consoled himself that it meant his daughter wanted to have the same with him. But, he wasn't sure it it could ever be truly be the same - Emma had been able to share things about her life with Mary Margaret that she could never talk about with her parents; foremost, how she felt about her parents abandoning her with no fear of hurting their feelings. It was the strangest love triangle he'd ever heard of, nevermind the only one he'd ever been in. "Why is it I'm having an easier time getting past Regina's actions than theirs?" he wondered aloud.

"Because it's easy to shrug off misdeed done to you than to someone you love," replied Snow. "And she may have been the cause of us deciding to send Emma away, but we're still the ones who chose to do it. She was cursing us - not our daughter directly. But those two men did what they did to our little girl through their own direct decisions."

He sighed. "I think I'll talk to her after breakfast. You think you can take Henry somewhere for a little while?"

"If I can pry him away. You know he hates not being at the center of the action," she said fondly. "But I think the stables might be a tempting enough diversion."

David smiled and Snow returned it warmly. "Good." He readjusted into a laying position, head propped in his right hand. Before Snow could answer, the sound of someone coming back down the stairs echoed and Snow settled back down on the mattress and cuddled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. Nothing else need be said, as the couple was far past needing to verbally acknowledge the conversation was settled. David kissed the crown of Snow's head before settling his cheek there. Things might not be perfect, but they were getting better, and that's all he could ask for.

* * *

_A girl's scream of terror was the first thing she was aware of. Then, strangely, the smell of old, well-oiled leather and damp wool. Daniel's scent. Then he was there, his face full of admiration. She was back in her riding clothes - her long hair back in a braid. _'Back from where?' _she dimly wondered. Rolling green hills. A tree. The scream was louder this time, accompanied by the gallop of hooves on moist earth. Her heart skipped a beat and she jumped back from Daniel. "Shh! Someone's here!" _

_The strangely familiar voice screamed again. "Help! Somebody help me!" _

_A small girl on a chocolate brown stallion tore past, the horse obviously stampeding. In a flash, Regina leapt on to her own steed, chasing after the child. Luckily, her horse was still fresh, while the girl's was clearly worn out, its fur frothy with sweat. She was gaining, but the girl was quickly losing her grip, despite hanging on for dear life. Regina leaned forward, balancing herself again her horse's neck and leaned out, trying to reach the child. "Give me your hand!" Though her eyes were filled with terror, she leaned out toward Regina. _

_And then, suddenly, Regina and her horse were frozen on the spot, her mother's blue energy field locking them in place. She could only look on in horror as the little girl's horse hoof lodged in a gopher or snake hole and it tripped, full speed, toppling forward and sending the girl flying. The child seemed to fly in slow motion, allowing her to see every detail of the horrific accident. She landed head first, face planted into the grass, the rest of her body's momentum bending her back in half in a direction it was never meant to go. Her legs, now so far behind her that they flew to her head, cracking her heels into the back of her skull just as the girls neck snapped and bent well past a 90 degree angle. Regina let out a guttural scream of horror. _

_A crack. A soft thump as her body came to rest hard against the ground. Silence. _

_Time seemed to snap back to its natural speed and Regina could only gaze on in horror, her voice as frozen as her body. A woman's deep, chilling laugh broke the silence, from somewhere behind her. "Who's there?" she asked, suddenly finding her voice again. "Is that you, Mother?"_

_A shorter laugh and then the dark voice again. "How I've longed to see that." She couldn't place the voice, but it wasn't her mother's. "Still..." Regina blinked and while she remained frozen, the runaway horse was back, running again, starting at the moment the girl had reached out for Regina's hand. Only this time, the rider wasn't a girl, but a woman with the same terror-filled eyes. Her fingertips grazed Regina's frozen hand this time before speeding past. The scene replayed itself again, with the same sickening cracking of bone and wet thump. But, when time resumed normal speed, she nearly toppled from her horse as she, and it, unfroze simultaneously. Regina quickly caught up and practically leaped from her horse as it came to a stop next to the broken woman. She fell to her knees, hands outstretched, but halted before she touched her. The woman's long black tresses pooled under her head, acting as a stark ebony frame against the porcelain skin of the woman's face. Bright red blood trickled from her broken nose slowly, tracing a gruesome trail down to her lips, and into her mouth. Her eyes were still open, and would likely have sparkled in concert with the green grass around her, were they not devoid of life. _

_The woman's cold voice again. "Ah. Now __**that's**__ even better." Regina only half heard her, though, as she stared in shock at the scene. "Well. Except for you, dear. Get to your feet - it looks far too much like you're kneeling at her feet."_

_Regina blinked. That voice. Only when the owner of the voice seemed to glide up beside her did turn away from the corpse. Her eyes traveled up the intruder's form: a pair of heeled riding boots, skirts of heavy black linen embroidered with intricate patterns of the darkest purple silk. A matching waistcoat with a tails that reached her knees and buttoned clothes like a vest. A dramatic collar that swept upward to end at her jawline like a king cobra's hood. Reddish-violet lips twisted into a cruel smile, and long black lashes that framed the cruelest eyes she'd ever seen since her mother's. "Who are you?"_

_"You don't recognize your own reflection? Please, dear, you're naive, not a dullard."_

_"Why did you do this?!" cried Regina. The woman's eyes sparkled with an icy mirth, and it was then that she realized it was her own eyes looking back at her. She scrambled to her feet, leaping backward in the process, and finally saw the whole, not the pieces. It couldn't be. "What kind of sorcery is this?! I demand you tell me who you are and why you've done this!"_

_Her dark self took a step closer, but Regina held her ground. "The most powerful kind. And I've done nothing."_

_"Nothing?! I don't consider murdering a woman and child __**nothing!**__"_

_"This is the astral plane; I've murdered no one. Well, not here, 're not real. This is a dream."_

_The day's events suddenly came flooding back. But they seemed like the dream. Or nightmare, really. "__**This**__ is the dream," replied Regina's dark self, her voice seductive as the words somehow dripped from her lips; not like her how her mother's words rolled around her tongue in sickly sweet syrup._

_"You can read my thoughts?" she asked dumbly._

_"With a question like that, no wonder mother thought she knew better than I." She narrowed her eyes. "I am she, as you are me, and we are one together, as the Eggman would say. Oh, but you've never had the particularly irritating occasion to visit Wonderland," she sneered. _

_"How can I trust you're not my mother - trying to drive me mad, showing me false visions in my dreams."_

_Her face twisted in disgust. "That cruel, weak, monster is nothing like me." _

_Regina let out a bark of an disbelieving laugh. "You're right - you're worse! Cora at least managed to look harmless enough! You're... we're the Evil Queen, aren't we? We cursed everyone! You destroyed everyone's happiness!"_

"_Silence!" she demanded and Regina found herself obeying despite herself. Still, the message was clear: she was correct. "That's better. __**Now**__, think - when was the last time you suddenly came to in mid-conversation. And did you not just see Snow White die twice? The dead don't come back in the real world." _

_The venomous delight in that last assertion sent a shiver down her spine. "If I'm you, then why are you torturing yourself?" _

_"Ah. A much better question. There might just be hope for you yet." She peered down at the dead woman's body, which lay in a heap, limbs bent at odd angles like a rag doll. "I suppose this would be a bit gruesome for you. She deserves it though, have no doubt."_

_Regina could help but follow her dark self's gaze. This time, she realized the woman was indeed Snow White - the one she'd met that very day, though clothed appropriately for a royal now, and the long hair returned. It felt simply as if she had blinked, and she found herself, and the dark woman, in a claustrophobically small, red room. Or it felt as much. It was hard to say when the walls were hidden in shadow, only the middle of the room lit by a circle of crimson light. "Where have you taken me?" she demanded._

_The dark Regina glided forward, her outfit making her bosom seem to thrust forward in anticipation as well. No doubt a deliberate effect of her clothing choice. Make the men want you and the women envious and they'll do anything to win your approval, Regina reflected. Why did she know that? _

_The Evil Queen bared her teeth in a predatory smile as she brought her mouth to Regina's ear. "A tomb of dreams formed of by your own regrets."_

"_My heart," Regina realized aloud, breathlessly. _

"_**Our **__heart," snarled the dark one. "One made by you." With a wave of her hand a looking glass appeared before them. "By you, using __**my**__ power," she growled. "See?" She wrapped a black-gloved arm around Regina's shoulders and pointed at the reflection. In the mirror was not her reflection, nor her dark self, but the one she'd found staring back at her earlier that day. Bobbed hair, starched tailored clothes, and smoky makeup - subtle compared to the Evil Queen, but overbearing compared to the innocent Regina. Her entire face was a similar co-mingling of aspects: hard set eyes, but not cruel, and a confident, but bitter smile as she seemed to examine the pair. "She is us." Another wave of her hand and the mirror slid into the floor like a playing card into its deck, a puff of purple smoke curling up from where it sunk._

_The Evil Queen slinked back to meld into the shadows, prowling around the edge of the light which circled Regina. Somehow, her eyes were always visible, reflecting light like a jungle cat. _

"_This was created by um, a spell - the well?" she asked._

"_This__** cell**__?" added the Evil Queen as she circled behind Regina, though the girl wouldn't grant her the satisfaction of showing her nerves by following the woman's movement, opting to stare rigidly ahead. "Or really..." She fell silent, as did the swish of fabric from her elaborate costume. "A __**tomb!**__" she hissed, suddenly upon her, her lips back at her ear, and Regina flinched in surprise. _

_She hated herself for showing any weakness to such an evil witch. But then... she was her. Her stomach lurched. She set her jaw firmly as she pulled herself together,still staring ahead. "Clearly, you're not dead. And if you're me, I'm not dead. So drop the riddles."_

"_But it's been so very long since I've been free to do as I please with magic. And the first I've ever been free of __**you.**__ Always whispers doubts in my ear." Regin refused to take the bait. The Evil Queen seemed to pirouette around Regina to come to rest back in front of her. "Very well. But the fact remains that this is my tomb. And you're me, so it shall be yours as well. Unless you're willing to embrace the power inside you."_

_Regina frowned in confusion."I have no powers."_

_The Queen laughed. It would have sounded kindly to untrained ears, but it bore all the earmarks of her mother's poisonous pleasantries. "But of __**course **__you do!"_

"_From mother? Her magic?" She hated the quiver in her voice._

"_Don't be ridiculous! We're far more powerful than what she gained from that little blood infection." Seeing the worry in the light Regina's eyes, she draped herself in a guise of caring and concern. "Oh, yes, I've seen it all. Everything you've done since I was locked away, through your eyes. But that's not what important. We had the power to take what we wanted the entire time." And then, for just a moment, she heard her own voice in this dark woman's and bittersweet smile."__**Freedom**__." _

_Regina shook her head, trying to clear it. "At... at what cost?"_

_The Evil Queen raised an eyebrow sharply, her voice once again dripping with venom. "Dear - I know you don't remember, but the cost is merely what we are owed. By mother. By Snow. By father... by the whole world and every miserable person in it." _

_She shook her head. "No! This can't be right! It can't be true!" _

_"The world isn't a fair place, girl. Mother was right about one thing - you must take what you want. There are only so many happy endings to go around and if yours isn't in your grasp you must steal it from another. No one just gives it to you."_

_Regina's head swam. Whether it was from the realization of what she'd become or the magic of this place, she couldn't be sure."If this is a prison - a tomb - as you say, then clearly mother isn't so weak."_

_"Child... this wasn't Cora's doing."_

_"Rumplestiltskin?"_

_The dark queen laughed. _

_"Who then?!"_

_"Why, you, of course. No one else has that kind of power. It must be done willingly."_

_"But you said-"_

_"I am you? True. But you are me. Together, we were Regina Mills. Venerable and feared, Madame Mayor. And then Snow White ruined it all again. Having that daughter... taking __**my **__son," she growled. _

_"Emma's son."_

_"By blood only, just like Cora, but she was no mother."_

_"How is any of this her fault?" she asked, bewildered_

_"She broke her promise. She told Cora about Daniel... and it just went on from there."_

_"You'd blame a child for all this?"_

_"A bolt of lightning can start a forest fire. Whose fault is that but the bolt, though it hasn't the intelligence to mean any harm?"_

_"The __**gods**__?! I don't know! Would you take them on as well, or simply destroy an innocent child's entire life?"_

_"If I had the power, why not cross a god or two?"_

_What truly frightened Regina about this statement was the arrogance behind it. This Evil Queen would get them both killed._

_Dark Regina peered at her through slitted eyelids. "It's thinking like that that ripped away our strength. It was you, not I, that made that desperate move at the Nostos Well. __**One**__ moment of weakness and everything we've worked and sacrificed for, our power, stripped..."_

_Regina crossed her arms, jutting her chin out in defiance. "I'm glad then. It's a blessing, not a curse, to be rid of you!"_

_"Oh, you'll __**never **__be rid of me, girl. Try as you might, we are one; too tightly woven into the magic's weave to be unravelled. And I'll break free."_

_"The visions..." whispered Regina as understanding dawned._

_The Evil Queen's face contorted, snake-like. "But of course... and it will be soon. We're weak without magic, and __**I **__have __**all **__of it. And if you won't help, I will destroy you. As soon as I figure out... __**how.**__ to __**destroy**__. __**You.**__ I never should have held on to you for so long. You're simply a gangrenous limb, only fit for amputation."_

_"I could say the same for you!" _

_This brought a deep well of laughter from the Evil Queen. "Oh, could you, now? Well. Keep that fire of hate in your belly. It always served __**me**__ well." Regina swallowed hard, but otherwise managed to hide any other outward manifestations of the fear in her heart. "As did that mask we've both worked __**so**__ hard to create. I can see everything - so could you, if you'd embrace our magic. But you won't, and that is why you will fail."_

_Regina's face dropped, calm, except for a genuine flame of tenacity in her eyes. "You won't succeed."_

_"Too little, too late, dearest. But I appreciate the spirit."_

_"Love is more powerful than even the darkest magics."_

_"Yes. That's why Daniel lived such a full life... Oh. Wait. That's precisely __**didn't **__happen. Face it. If we'd done as mother wished and followed her footsteps in magic, we could have taken her down the moment she made a move to harm him!"_

_"He could never have loved a creature like you..."_

_The Evil Queen flung a hand over her heart. "__**Oh**__, you wound . Where __**are**__ your manners?"_

_"I have Henry, and everyone who loves him on my side."_

_Dark Regina's eyes flared dangerously. "Don't you __**dare **__speak of - you know __**nothing **__of my son__**!"**_

"_I know he could see past the monster in us - __**you**__ - enough to love me. There could be no stronger love! How could you know him any better than me? You're trapped in here and have only seen as much as me!"_

"_Underestimating your enemies will be your downfall. Unlike you, __**I**__ can remember him. You made the mistake of locking away the baby with the bathwater, and there's no way you can defeat me. A lifetime of memories are right here with me." She tapped her temple. "Safe and sound, in me. I'm living, breathing, decades of experience. You can't win."_

"_You're alone."_

"_Don't fool yourself. Snow White, her lap dog, and their whelp won't help you."_

"_They already have."_

"_Out of pity. But once they see I'm in here too... and I __**will**__ show them. I've done it once already today. No one could forgive what's been visited on them by me. You'll see." _

"_If you have to destroy everything Henry loves to keep him, you've never really had him. Or have you forgotten why I was running from home?" It was the slightest of twitches in the Evil Queen's right eye, but it was all she needed to see. "You don't have memories from __**before**__ Daniel died..." She wasn't sure where the triumph in her voice came from, just as she didn't know what good those memories would do, but it felt right somehow._

_Lightning fast, the Evil Queen's hand was around her throat, crushing her windpipe. She lifted her above her head with preternatural strength. "You'll learn." Regina could feel the Queen's long nail's dig into her skin. Her blood, strangely cold, dribbling down her neck. "No one defeats me. Not even myself," she growled. "Don't worry. You'll remember. Eventually." Dark Regina's eyes turned black as Regina's vision was engulfed in flames._

Screaming. Blood curdling. A woman. Her eyes snapped open as she shot upright and realized she'd woken herself up with her own shriek of terror. Her eyes darted around the dark room. It was much larger than the last. Snow's home. She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her breathing and manic heartbeat. She nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder from behind.

"Shh! Shh! It's okay..." said a man. David. He withdrew his hand and folded his forearms over the back of the couch, kneeling to rest his chin on top of them, and meet her at eye level where she sat. "Are you alright?"

Given how things had ended that evening, she was taken aback by the genuine concern in her voice. "I - I think - yes. Yes, I'm fine. You needn't worry about me. I'm sorry - I must have awoken the whole house with that scream..."

David cocked his head to one side. "No... just some whimpering, and a small yelp, really. I'm a light sleeper. Have to be, as a shepherd, and old habits die hard, as they say."

Regina furrowed her brow. "Huh. It sounded louder in my ears."

"A nightmare?"

She nodded. "I believe so."

"You're not sure?"

She shook her head. "I don't know... it seemed so real."

"Tell me about it," he replied and stood up, moving over to the kitchen. "Talking it out can be quite helpful," he said as he began rummaging through cabinets.

"Well... I don't know. For something that felt so real, it's getting hazier by the second."

"What's the first thing you remember?"

"Daniel... we were under our tree. And then Snow, she was on a runaway horse."

"The day you met and saved her life."

Regina nodded. "Only magic froze me, and she was thrown from the horse. But when I got to her, she wasn't a child. She was grown up - like here in Storybrooke, but dressed for our realm. She'd broken her neck - it was awful!"

Apparently finding what he was looking for, he took a seat on the arm of the sofa at Regina's feet. He wouldn't remark as much, but he was glad it was a nightmare of Snow dying, and not pleasant. The subconscious told far more about a person than even they often knew of themselves. "Anything else?"

"Then... somehow I was in a red room, suddenly. Dark. An evil woman was there - like my mother, but worse, if such a thing is imaginable. She was the one that brought me there! And killed Snow! She... I don't know."

David's heart dropped into his stomach. "A red room?" he asked, trying not to seem to interested. He didn't know what it meant, but it couldn't be good.

"Yes. She was... showing me, or no, threatening me. About how things had to be." The terror was showing in her face again. "She wants to kill me, if I don't do what she wants..."

"And that would be?"

She shook her head. "I - I don't know! She was saying that was her prison that she'd brought me to - that if I didn't... she wanted me to use magic! That was it!"

"To what ends?"

"I can't recall... gods, I think she might be the one who erased my memories. I don't know how, but it feels like it's her fault..." She sighed in frustrated worry. "I'm sorry. I know it's not much help, but it's all I can remember."

"That's alright."

Regina drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "What if she's back there when I fall asleep again? I think she truly means to kill me!"

David struck a match and held a long white candle to the flame, the flare of the wick as it caught fire making him oddly homesick. "Here you go," he said, placing the candle, with stand, on the coffee table.

"What's that for?"

"The keep the nightmares away. Never fails."

"Your family must have quite the history of trauma if you've developed a method of repelling bad dreams," remarked Regina. It was meant to be a joke, but she saw David's face fall, she realized her misstep.

"More than our fair share, I'd say. But we soldier on."

"Oh! David, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to belittle what your family has been through, I-"

"It's alright. I know. We all put our feet in our mouths sometimes." He gave her an understanding smile. "Which is why I should be the one apologizing." Regina didn't interrupt to offer some false protest, but she didn't agree self-righteously like a certain Mayor would have, so he continued. "My family means everything to me. And I've lost so much with Emma... she's been hurt too many times, with too little love in her life. With Henry, I just feel like, I should do everything I can to spare him any more of what Emma went through. And to find out that his father is... well, we'll find that out soon enough. I'm trying to take what you said to heart -"

"About evil not being born, but made," she offered.

"Yes. And you're right. But you don't know what Rumpelstiltskin has put my family through - and it turns out, just to find the son that ran away from _him_."

"And if anyone can understand that, it would be me. Can't you see that?"

"Of course. But... things are complicated. I have my reasons, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you. It wasn't very..." he searched for the words.

"Chivalrous?" she supplied with a smirk. "Or would you prefer 'charming'?"

"Let's go with chivalrous," he replied, returning the smile. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know that my family's best interest is all I care about." He paused. "And as long as you're in Henry's life, that includes you."

Regina blinked, not knowing what to say. She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. Something from the nightmare prickles at her, but she couldn't nail down what it was. Simply that his declaration had made her feel safer against a danger she hadn't even realized she was feeling threatened by. "Thank you," she offered simply. "I... believe I see you all as family as well. At least, I'd like to. I'm not certain what a normal family feels like."

David chuckled. "Well, you're in luck. This is far from a normal family."

"Perhaps we can all learn together."

"I hope so," he replied. He wasn't confident they'd get that chance - that the Evil Queen was gone for good - but now wasn't the time to voice such concerns. He pulled himself to his feet with a small, tired groan. "Well, I think I'll try and get a little more sleep. I recommend you do the same. If you'd like to join Henry at the stables, that is."

"I'd love to," she replied genuinely. David nodded in return before pulling the curtain to his bedroom back and disappearing behind it.

Regina lay back down on her right side, staring at the candle. She wasn't sure how much good it would do against nightmares, but it was something familiar in a very alien world, and that much was a welcome comfort.

* * *

**A/N: **So, I had thought about dropping Good!Regina vs. Evil!Regina, but after the reveal of the Red Room nightmares in "Tallahassee" I had to include it and tie it in.


	21. Firefly Circus

**Author's Notes: **Hope you like your warm fuzzies everyone. Enjoy them while they last. New faces are about to bring the drama/action to a head Storybrooke in a couple chapters. This was a strange chapter to write, as it came out quickly, but required a lot more tweaking than usual to get it where I wanted in tone and pacing. I'm still not 100% in love with it, but sometimes to just let it be what it's gonna be.

**Reviews: **Evil Queen Vs. Young Regina cagematch will be key, as a few of you asked about. But then, nothing you're reading won't _not_ have a payoff. So keep those hamsters running that wheel when you read something that seems throwaway. I'm almost happy I didn't finish this before season 2 - there have been lots of fun things to incorporate into the plot I planned months ago. Point in case: Rumple and Henry! Say what you will, but that dude has a soft spot for the kids.

**Indulge me in a quick humble!brag?** I believe good characterization is the foundation of any good fic, and that's done with dialogue true to the show. So, I was tickled last week watching "Child of the Moon" (the Red/Snow scene when Snow first meets the wolf clan). She finished her rant, and as Snow opens her mouth again, I say to my fellow Oncer, "Sooo... _who_ are your friends?" Which is then what actually came out of her mouth. We cracked up, but it proceeded to happen 2 more times that night. What I'm saying is, does the jinx game work over tv broadcasts and who do I demand owes me a coke? ;) OK, actually, I just needed to share here where other writers can understand my nerdy delight in nailing _actual_ show dialogue off the top of my head. OK, I'll stop making this about me.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 21:** A Firefly Circus

From the moment the scent hit her nose, Regina couldn't help but smile. While many people found the smell of stables offensive, she relished the mix of hay, oats, and even manure. Well, as long as she didn't dwell on it too much, anyway. It smelt like home to her. Familiar. Safe. Her wheelhouse, where her real family - the friends she'd chosen as her lived ones - uplifted her for far too briefly each day. That family was, of course, mostly made up of horses. It was only her father and Daniel, aside from that, but they were all she needed from a family by her estimation. Whether affection for the aroma was an acquired taste, or because she'd always associated it with freedom, she wasn't sure; but then, it didn't really matter, either.

When she actually stepped into the stables proper she had to blink back the tears welling up at the sense of home it conjured. Although slightly odd in layout, it was the most familiar place she'd seen so far in this world. The riding equipment and grooming tools hung from weathered wooden walls that could have been a stable in any kingdom in her realm. She could almost forget that she was not in the Enchanted Forest.

Her head was still spinning from the ride over in what Snow had called a car. She had no idea how anyone could drive at such speeds and make decisions fast enough to avoid a collision when she could barely take in the scenery as it flew by. She was no shrinking violet, and even loved the sting of the wind in her eyes when she'd push her favorite steed to his limits, but the car's speed was terrifying - not that she'd admit as much. She already felt enough like a lost child in this realm; the last thing she needed was to give anyone another reason to treat her as such. That being said, with machines that could travel so quickly, she was pleasantly surprised anyone would keep horses around.

She was subject to a less pleasant surprise when she learned that she'd never taken Henry riding - let alone taught him how to care for a horse, and wondered if her joy in all things equestrian had died along with Daniel. She got her answer when they arrived at the stall of a gorgeous palomino mare named Firefly.

She reached out and rested her palm on the horse's nose. "Is she mine?" asked Regina. The horse seemed to answer as it nuzzled into her hand, taking in her scent, and she couldn't help but grin.

"So the stable's head groom told us," replied David. He'd been here twice since the curse broke, as Henry had expressed interest in learning how to be the knight he should have been, had he grown up in the Enchanted Forest. While any sword fighting had been limited to wooden swords, horseback riding was the one proper skill that couldn't be nerfed, and as such, was the skill Henry showed the greatest enthusiasm to learn. When looking for an available horse, they had found Regina listed among the facility's customers, surprising even Henry.

"She's lovely," Regina replied as she pretended to give the horse a once over. In truth, she needed a minute to process the animal's name. 'Firefly' couldn't have been a random choice - it was an obvious homage to her and Daniel's favorite romantic spot, Firefly Hill - and very telling. On the one hand, it was the first time she actually felt like this other Regina was actually _her_, which was more comforting than she'd anticipated. On the other hand, she found herself pitying the other her. Decades had passed and she had clearly been unable to let go. She turned back around. "Would it be possible I might ride her today?"

"Your horse, your call," replied Snow with a shrug and a smile. Her former step-mother had always shown herself to be a skilled and intuitive rider, and horses seemed to bring out whatever empathy she had left in her heart. Nonetheless, Snow hadn't realized just how much the animals meant to Regina until she saw the woman step inside. It was the most relaxed and confident she'd looked since the whole fiasco began. But now that she was giving the matter more than a passing consideration, it should have been obvious to her. Of course Regina would care deeply about them; stables and riding were weaved through everything she'd ever loved.

It was only Henry's second time at the stables, so grooming and tacking the horses took longer than it would have had it been just the three Enchanted Forest natives, but teaching Henry was what they were there for anyway. Snow and David were in the two adjoining stalls as Regina walked the boy through picking Firefly's hooves, brushing her out, and finally, getting the saddle on as the couple were warming up their mounts in the corral. She could tell she must have spent a great deal of time with this horse; the trust in her: palpable.

Regina placed her hand flush against the horse's side. "Okay, now cinch the girth..." she instructed.

Henry did his best to tighten the strap around the mare's midsection, though it proved more difficult than Gramps had made it seem when he demonstrated a couple days ago. He let out a grunt of frustration as he couldn't seem to move it any tighter, but it was clearly still loose. He yanked again in frustration and the horse flinched. "It won't budge!"

Regina placed her hands firmly over the boy's. "Whoa! Hey! Don't let yourself get frustrated or you'll frighten her. And the last thing you want it a stampeding horse. Just ask Snow," she added with a wink.

Henry gave her a small, embarrassed smile. More jokes, no scolding. It reminded him of years past, teaching him to tie his shoes and ride a bike - before things had turned so wrong. Before he'd realized what she was, and pushed her away until she'd all but given up on spending quality time with him. "Sorry... I just... Gramps made it look so simple, and with everything going on, I'd just like to be..." He trailed off.

"You want to be the hero. Like the ones in your book," she surmised.

He nodded, surprised. "How did you know?"

"I know the look. I wasn't much older than you when I realized what kind of awful things my Mother was capable of. I was convinced I could save any innocents that garnered her wrath. Why do you think I love those stories of pirates and living on the high seas?" He shrugged. "It's about freedom - being able to strike out and live your life on your own terms." Her eyes took on a distant look as she fiddled with the leather cinch strap. "As I'm sure you're aware, my mother was cruel. For all the hearts she stole, she never seemed interested in having one to fill the black void in her own chest..." She looked back at Henry. "She used to make our servant's lives a living nightmare. I finally realized what she was the day she tore the heart out of my best - _only_ friend's - mother." Henry's eyes widened. It wasn't surprising that his mom hadn't told him this story; afterall, until a week ago the curse was supposed to be all in his head. What _was_ surprising is that she was opening up to him; commiserating with his own vulnerability by showing him her's. "The servant was never the same after that - she ceased being a mother and became a caretaker."

"Because you can't be a mother if you can't love."

Regina nodded. "That was when I decided I would finally stand up to her, and steal away with my friend and her mother in the night. I'd planned to finance our journey with my jewels - being shortly after my fourteenth birthday, and social debut ball, I had quite a collection. Once we were settled, I thought I would send for my father, so we could start a new life, as a family. Abby, my friend, and I made plans, thinking we had it all thought out. There was just one last piece - I had to find her mother's heart to take it with us. We didn't know how we were going fix her, but we knew there had to be someone out there who could help her." Regina's eyes were sad, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped the leather strap in her hand hard. "Her mother ruined it. She told Cora of her plans... she broke her promise and her daughter paid the price." She grit her teeth for a moment before forcing herself back into calmness.

"Cora already had already taken the heart from her vault, hadn't she?" Regina nodded, and he frowned. "How is that your friend's mom's fault?"

"She told," replied Regina, as if it were obvious.

"But Cora -"

"Oh, I'm certain she threatened her into telling. But the point is that she put her life before Abby's happiness."

Henry shook his head emphatically. "No - Cora had her heart. She knew you were up to something, and - you know that if you have someone's heart you can control them like a puppet, don't you?" Regina blinked at him, almost dumbfounded. "It's true! Why do you think she took them?"

"A life without joy, love, or even anger, is punishment enough," she replied. "But if what you say is true..."

"It is! It's all in my book!"

Regina shook her head slowly "I've spent so many years disgusted with that woman... she killed Abby on my mother's command," she said almost too quiet for Henry to hear. "Right in front of me... she told me I was responsible for killing her. So did her mother, even with the blood still dripping from her hands..."

"I'm sorry," said Henry suddenly.

Her train of thought broken, she looked in surprise at the boy. "Whatever for?"

"I... we haven't had the best relationship for a while now, and I just thought, or convinced myself maybe? That you-" _'Were a cruel, evil, power hungry monster who lied about loving me.' "_Never mind, it doesn't matter what I thought. I guess I shoulda' listened to Archie. I just thought you were being mean when you did... stuff I didn't like. I never really thought about you maybe having some sucky stuff happen when _you_ were a kid." He cringed instinctually as the last time he'd said 'sucks' in front of his mom, she'd giving him a tongue-lashing and then made him write an essay on how swearing makes a person look classless and stupid. To his surprise, Regina simply squeezed his hand. It was meant to be comforting, but it was a bittersweet reminder that the woman who raised him was gone. Like all those times wishing he could find his 'real' mom had made Regina go away. "Sorry..." He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for his language or his wishing.

The slang made half of what he said unintelligible, but the intent was still clear. "No, don't be foolish. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for." She crouched, putting her eyes on level with his. "Look, I know I don't remember, so I'm not really your mother, but for what it's worth? It's _my_ job to be the better person. If the other me... if she hurt your feelings or let you down in any way... then I'm _so_ sorry. What happened to me shouldn't be an excuse for making you feel bad. And if she hasn't said as much, I assure you, she feels the same... I sometimes have difficulty with...admitting I'm wrong."

"A defense mechanism," replied Henry.

"I beg your pardon?"

"That's what Archie calls it. He's like, a doctor but for your head. Or I guess you'd call it your soul in the Enchanted Forest?"

Regina nodded, though she still wasn't quite following. "Yes, well, in any case, it's no excuse, but I hope you can believe me when I say, with no doubt, no version of me could feel differently, even if she has made mistakes. You're not just an innocent, you're her... _my_ child, and don't deserve to have your feeling hurt because I can't let go of pain someone else caused in my past... Part of becoming an adult is learning to be considerate and care when you're hurting someone. But it's also something that constantly needs to be worked on, or you can forget how to so that, like my mother did." She cleared her throat and took a deep cleansing breath. It was also about not treating your child like your friend - they would always have those. Parents were the people, by blood or not, that would always sacrifice their happiness for your own. It was exactly why Cora would never really be her mother, no latter how hard Regina wished. She gave Henry what she hoped was a clear, baggage-free smile. "_And_ horsemanship is an excellent way to learn empathy. Like, for instance, Firefly here. You see how she's fidgeting in her feet - shifting her weight back and forth?"

"Like a potty dance," he replied with a smirk.

"If you say so," she replied, her smile more relaxed. "She's telling you she's nervous. Horse's can tell what people are feeling even when the person can't."

"She can tell I'm... nervous?" He didn't like admitting it. That was just how things were at his age. The weakest boy on the playground was always a target.

"Gramps says the most important thing is building trust between a horse and their rider."

"And he's exactly right."

"But how do you tell?"

"The horse will tell you," she said simply.

Henry scrunched his nose in frustration. "He said that too, but what does that even mean? Horses can't talk in your realm, can they?"

Regina chuckled. "Not that I'm aware. No - what I mean is when it seems like your horse can read your mind, that's when you've bonded. And it goes both ways. But once she knows that you have her best interest at heart, it's a bond like no other."

"Like true love," he replied.

Regina tilted her head. "I suppose so. In a way. But more the family rather than the romantic kind." She reached back over to the horse. "Now, we don't want to keep Snow and David waiting too long. Put your hands here," she explained, guiding his hands with her own. "The problem you're having is you're not working with her. Watch her breathing. When she exhales, you tighten the strap. This will also help prevent bloat."

The rest of the tacking went fairly quickly and they soon joined David and Snow in running the horses through warm up exercises. It was like living inside the daydreams that had filled so many mindless tea times and cotillions in her life. Her and Daniel, building a life together on their terms, teaching their children to ride, telling them the stories that would teach them to be strong and kind, and playing and laughing together until it hurt. She had vowed to give her children everything she didn't have growing up. But it wasn't the riches and power as Cora dreamed, or even the healing of her relationship with her mother her father wished for. It was simply the world and whatever _they_ wanted from it. She didn't know if she'd succeeded with Henry - certainly it wasn't the home with Daniel that she'd dreamed of - _'_but then, her father always said, _'We don't choose our families, but we __**do**__ choose what we make of them.'_ She'd always felt it was some excuse for the fact that his choice in a wife had been so poor, but seeing how things had turned out for her... she was starting to understand what he was really saying. She wished she could tell him as much.

Showing both the impatience of any adolescent boy, and the untamed spirit she'd seen in Snow and Emma, Henry soon grew fidgety with the repetitive exercises. "So, can I ride her alone, now?" Snow and David exchanged a look, but to her surprise, then turned to her for her opinion.

"Uh," Regina paused, having been caught off guard at being consulted. What did she know about parenting? She didn't want to be the killjoy, but also didn't want to be reckless with his safety. While the couple had little more experience themselves, Snow was a teacher, at least. She thought back to the library roof, and Emma's advice on handling the Lost Boys. What would Dame Eyola, her nursemaid, have replied? _'Follow your heart. It knows the way.' _The warm, musical voice was so vivid, she could have sworn the round, apple-cheeked matron was standing beside her. Even if she'd been dozing in bed, hearing the voice, it would have been a ridiculous notion; the woman had withered and passed away not long after Regina's eighteenth birthday. That didn't make her wisdom any less sage. "Soon, I think. After you lead her on foot. If that sounds acceptable to your grandparents," she said, cracking a mischievous look at Snow's consternation at the term. From Henry it was one thing, but even the fairest of them all had her vanity.

David nodded. "Sounds good to me. Firefly should see you leading her by her reins on foot. Once she's used to feeling your personal energy through them, she'll be able to feel it and trust it when you're on her back." Henry pulled a face and yet another step between him and his knighthood, but made no verbal complaint. "And don't pout when you're guiding her - she's going to assume that any negative feelings are directed at her. They're very sensitive animals."

Regina nodded. "Even if you don't feel it, act like you're sure of yourself. That's half of being a leader of anything."

Henry nodded and drew his shoulders back, picturing himself as he'd imagined David and Snow looked when leading their people in the battle to take back their kingdom. He planted his feet like he'd seen Emma do when facing off against Regina and Gold. And he crossed his arms and lifted his chin like he'd seen his mom do when putting her foot down as mayor.

Snow chuckled. "There you go - Prince Charming 2.0 if I've ever seen one!"

"Charming?" scoffed David. "That's _the_ Snow White warrior princess pose if I ever saw it! Well, prince in his case," he offered in an aside to Henry.

"You're both wrong," interjected Regina. "I distinctly remember Emma looking exactly like that when facing off with Rumpelstiltskin yesterday. See the eyes? Same squint. In other words, it's all of you." Henry puffed up at this and her heart warmed at being able to do as much for the boy.

"Actually, it's everyone in my family," he replied with a smile for Regina that she couldn't help but return.

Soon enough, satisfied with the mare's comfort level with Henry, the four mounted up with Snow and David on their own horse's, and Henry sharing Firefly with Regina. Being smaller, and the student, Henry rode in front, with Regina cuddled up behind him, guiding him on the finer points of controlling with both reins and feet.

Though the grounds were small by comparison to her family's estate, it was a gorgeous landscape of impossibly green pasture and the most neatly kept jumping course she'd ever seen, with grass so short and even it looked like a painting. Again she wondered why future Regina had never taken her son here. Was it selfishness or something else? She and Daniel had always felt that there was nothing that couldn't be made better by sharing it with someone you loved. She couldn't imagine that changing.

It hadn't been a long ride, but it had been fun, especially taking Henry on his first full gallop. She was surprised to see he was as nervous about the speed as she'd been in the car, despite having pestered them to go faster. Also like her, he hid his fright as best he could, but there was an intimacy to sharing a horse, and his tenseness told her everything without even seeing her face. He'd even begged to try a jump, but that was a flat out no from all three adults. So, he settled for watching two of his heroes bring moments from his book to life as Snow and David demonstrated how to run a jump track. He didn't seem aware of Regina's own love of jumping, but that wasn't surprising by now, and she was content to narrate what the other two were doing to guide their steeds.

As she watched the display, Regina couldn't help flashing back to young Snow and their riding session together. The girl had put on a brave face, but had been rather timid in her approach. It was fairly typical for a princess, and really, her life was supposed to be all carriage rides and stately processions. She didn't need to be able to do much beyond the occasional canter - not even mount or dismount by herself, really.

But, it appeared that girl hadn't just gotten back on the horse - she'd mastered it to a degree Regina never would have predicted. She handled her mount with a preternatural ease and grace, almost as if she could speak to the animal. It wasn't an unknown ability, and her mother, the queen, had championed respect for all woodland creatures. She watched keenly as Snow took request after request to demonstrate various actions Henry said he had read of in his adventure books, and something called movies, clearly relishing the chance to share something of her home realm with the boy.

This soon shifted from a lesson into a game, reminding Regina of her own girlhood, when her father had still been fit and indulged in her delight at his tricks. Looking back, they were simple stunts, but at the time, it had made him as magical as anything her mother could do. Even David was mostly on the sidelines at this point - saying he was more foot soldier than cavalry While Regina recognized many of the maneuvers Snow pulled off, thanks to her own experience with the sport of dressage. Dressage was the gentrified noble's version of practical warhorse. that resembled a dance more than a military drill down. All show. _This_ was different. Snow's style wasn't that of a princess - it was that of a soldier. Cora would have been horrified - she considered even_ her_ daughter's riding style 'mannish' - but Regina was simply fascinated.

The way she pulled tight corners using only her legs to command the gelding was impressive as she explained to Henry that she preferred her bow to a sword, and why that made legwork so important. Her balance and fluidity as the creature let loose defensive kicks and spins, and thecCoup de grâce - rearing the horse up, to pivot on its hind legs to pull an about face - it was quite clear her battle experience surpassed even that of even a typical landed knight. It was a sixth sense honed and tested out of necessity. Apparently, David hadn't been kidding when he'd called her a warrior princess. She couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to turn a gentle sweet child into a walking weapon. Not that the woman wasn't still those other things - but the innocence and entitlement typical of a woman in her station had certainly been excised. So the question lingered - how had she changed? And would she even recognize herself if she could somehow meet the other?

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, and Snow's horse was flagging, they decided to head back. The town meeting would begin in a couple hours as well. She smiled as Henry experimented with bringing Firefly in and out of a trot while Snow and David followed at a steady pace behind them. The whole morning had brought back memories of better times, and though the whole thing was making her homesick, she _could_ imagine them all as part of her family. She pushed down a sigh. If Daniel were here, it could even be close to perfect. Nonetheless, she could _certainly _see calling it home. Had they already started down that path before losing her memories? As much as she'd like to believe so, she doubted it. The more she saw and got to know these people, it seemed like this dynamic was just as new to them.

But, it was quite evident she'd had some role in Snow's life, and even if her memories never returned, she was starting to believe she could be happy here. While the fact that Snow was her adoptive son's grandmother - a matter she was doing her best to ignore for fear of the sheer mind-bending insanity of it - gave her no choice in the matter, she welcomed the idea. The princess - or queen - or school teacher - was not only a pseudo-familiar face, but had also a proven herself to have grown into a kind woman, and seemingly loyal friend.

No sooner had the very thought expressed itself consciously than she was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling of panicked rage felt like it was clawing its way out from her heart like a rabid animal. A flash of the painted face of the woman from her nightmare. _'Betrayal!' _it seemed to screech. She reeled back and sucked in a breath, as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her, but it didn't seem to be enough. And while the feeling was only fleeting, Firefly had reacted exactly as she'd warned Henry about. Spooked, the horse reared up, as if being attacked by the same dark energy. Even from the saddle Regina could see her eyes had gone wild.

She lunged for the reins, the mane, anything to grab a firm hold of with one hand, while wrapping her other around Henry, but came up empty. She felt him scrambling in much the same way, but he must have dug his heels into the mare out of reflex because she broke into a couple violently bucking kicks before speeding off. Amazingly, they were both still seated, but the horse was clearly making a run for the stalls. They were nearing the corral and she braced herself around Henry as they headed straight for the fence. Henry tensed as he realized the same, but repeated his mistake, as any novice does in a panic, and dug in his heels while pulling on the horse's mane gripped firmly in his fists.

She could hear screaming behind her, David and Snow pushing their horses to catch up, but it was too late. Firefly leapt into the air, but the movement was jerky and panicked, sending Regina tumbling off the back. She tried to take Henry with her, perhaps to break his fall with her body, but her fingers lost their purchase on the boy as he clung white-knuckled to the horse. The last she saw before landing shoulder-first into the ground was a series of images. The mare letting out a shriek of pain at the hair pulling. Henry flying over the horse's neck and head. The ground rushing up in her peripheral vision.

A blinding explosion behind her eyes.

Blackness.

Silence.

Twinkling stars.

A keening mosquito-like buzz.

But then it pitched and grew as the sound of the world rushed back to envelope her. Was a wave of water, crashing over her head, rumbling through her ears? At once, the chaotic white noise seemed to collapse in on itself, into one singular crystal clear bellow of horror.

"_**Henry**_!" she heard Snow and David both cry out in chorus. Regina found herself watching the scene unfold before her through flashing lights in her vision. Though dazed, she somehow managed to lift her head as she heard two horses approaching behind her. The horse was rearing up, pawing at the air, Henry's crumpled form underfoot. Everything seemed to be moving slowly, but somehow also faster than the blink of an eye.

She was dimly aware of Snow and David's horses galloping past her, just a hairsbreadth away on either side, transfixed as she was on Henry. Firefly's hooves stomped into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt, thankfully missing the boy. The beast reared up again, lost in an instinctual defensive display. Suddenly, Snow's steed leapt over the wooden fence, and to Regina's amazement, the woman was crouched, feet on the saddle. At the apex of her horse's leap, she launched herself, folding into premeditated tumble as her feet hit the ground. Snow, lightening fast, drove the full momentum of her body into Henry and, in one fluid action, her arms latched around the boy to spin them both, taking the brunt of the impact with her upper arm and rolling out of the way of rampaging hooves. An intense sense of deja vu washed over her - it was like watching a replay of herself rescuing that small princess, only transformed into the kind of grander heroics peddled by a travelling bard.

David, meanwhile, was essentially riding his horse as if he were a saddle bag. He clung to one side, a foot in the right stirrup, the other hovering over the ground that whipped by underneath, hands gripping the saddle horn and reins to steady his balance. He slowed his horse just enough that he could take off at a full run as his feet hit the ground. Two strides and he had reached the fence. He vaulted over with one hand on a post, and seeing Snow and Henry were in the clear, he deftly grabbed the horse's reins. He planted his feet now, firmly pulling down on the reins, and directed a few loud, but calmly forceful, "Whoa"'s. The horse pushed off a few more times, but as the bounces got smaller David tugged on the reins and began backing up slowly. Regina was amazed as she watched the horse steady, and finally stop, letting the man lead her. Only Daniel could have calmed the animal faster.

She pulled herself to her feet, and was dizzy, but otherwise felt remarkably uninjured. Slowly, she made her way to the corral, watching Snow who had an unconscious Henry half-cradled in her arms. He seemed to be coming around as she approached and a wave of relief washed over her - strangely, it felt like it was coming from both inside her tightly knotted heart, and the rest of her. Gingerly, she ducked through the fence as Henry got his bearings and she knelt next to the two. Seeing that everyone was okay for the moment, David shepherd the three horses back to their stalls

Snow ran her fingers through his hair in a comforting gesture. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I think so." Henry blinked, looking around. "What happened?"

"Your horse went berserk and threw you both..." replied Snow.

Henry frowned, his brows bunched together in worry. "I'm sorry."

"_Oh_ - Henry..."

"_Henry_," scolded Regina. "Whatever for?"

"I shouldn't have pushed so hard to ride today. You were right. All of you. I wasn't ready." Such guilty dejection was awful to see on the boy's face after he'd started the day so excited.

Snow tilted her head to one side, regarding him as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That's _our_ fault. We said it was okay - and didn't even get you a helmet... God - _what_ was I thinking?!"

Henry pulled himself upright, finally, as he noticed Regina's face. He'd only seen her look like this once before - when he'd awoken from the sleeping curse. "Are _you_ okay?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm well, but don't worry about me." Except this time she looked way more guilty than relieved. Wasn't she going to yell at his grandparents for putting him in danger and snatch him away from Snow's arms? That incident, when Emma had rescued him from the old mine, wasn't unusual. She'd yell at teachers for letting sick kids come to school when he caught a cold, threatened to cut funding to the Parks Department when he'd gotten a splinter on the playground equipment (since they "obviously weren't using it") or once, even forced the local tv station to have her approve all shows aired for a month after he'd gotten nightmares. Sure, she had grounded him, and taken away his tv, for the same month, but she still punished _everyone_ for it.

He hated it, and sometimes, when he was really angry, he believed he hated _her_ for it. Now, here was his mom - kinda - being exactly how he'd wished for a million times. But...

Regina scooter closer and reached out a hand, clearly unsure of the proper amount of attention. She laid her hand on his ankle, but Henry hissed in pain, and she jerked her hand back. "Oh! I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Nope. It didn't feel right at all. This wasn't his mom's way. This wasn't his mom. She cared and all, but it wasn't personal - not like with family. Was this why Emma couldn't believe Mary Margaret was her mother before the curse broke? He gave her a pained smile. "It's okay."

"I'll be the judge of that," replied Snow. She turned to Regina. "Here, take my place."

Regina shook her head emphatically. "_No_, I can't - what if I hurt him again?"

Snow leveled her gaze at the woman. She'd never seen _this _Regina - unsure, vulnerable - but then, she had been just a girl before the woman's heart was poisoned. It was a role-reversal much like she'd experienced with Emma; going from innocent little sister type to protective mother. "You won't," she replied firmly. "But we need to see how bad Henry's leg is. If you know anything medical, though..." As Snow expected, Regina shook her head.

Henry pushed himself upright, propping himself up on the palms of his hands. "I'm okay. _Really._"

"Oh? Well, stand up then," replied Snow. Very much as hard-headed as everyone in his family, Henry moved his leg. He grit his teeth, and it was clear to Snow that he was hurt. But, she knew her family. He wasn't going to accept help until he was forced to admit that he needed it.

_That_ moment came seconds later.

"I'm fine." A whimper escaped his throat as he tried to put some weight on it and he fell back, defeated. "Maybe not."

"Right. I need you to take him." Regina was about to protest, until Snow glared at her over the boy's head. It wasn't an angry look, just insistent, and somehow clearly telling her that he needed her. She nodded and the two quickly, but gently, traded places.

When he was comfortably leaned back against Regina's shoulder, Snow began to roll up his pant leg and removed his sneaker. "Henry," began Regina. "Henry," she repeatedly softly when he didn't respond. She palmed his jaw and turned his head up tho look at her. "You need to know, Snow was only half right." She noticed the other woman's ears perk up at this, but she continued ministering to Henry.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... that was _my _fault. Or this damned curse - or spell, or _whatever_ it is. There's something... dangerous in me."

"I know," replied Henry simply. No judgement. No anger. Not even fear...

"No, Henry, you don't understand. It's dangerous and... angry. It wants to hurt Sn-uh-_some_ people." She noticed Snow hesitate flicking her gaze to Regina, then back to her task. She'd caught the slip, even if Henry hadn't. Disturbingly, it seemed like she wasn't surprised.

"You wouldn't hurt me. As mad as I've ever been at you, I always knew that."

Regina frowned. "Of course I wouldn't, but the thing locked inside me...You don't understand."

"No. I do. What's locked inside you - even _it_ wouldn't." Henry glanced at Snow for support, but she looked away, busying herself examining him, hoping he hadn't seen. He realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. For Regina, this simply lent credence to her fears. They had an inkling into what she had trapped inside herself.

While she wanted to believe what he said was true, she would have said the same when she was a child under Regina's care. And the woman had done all should could to kill Snow. And Henry carried her blood. But even as she thought it, there was some doubt at the back of her mind. _Had_ Regina done all she could? She'd let so many chances to kill Snow pass by, and the people she loved, pass. Had there been this woman, the same that adored Henry, buried deep inside the Evil Queen, relegated to acting as some kind of conscience, like Jiminy Cricket?

"I hope you're right," Regina sighed.

"It's trial by fire," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing. "It's how you find your true self. That's what you're supposed to learn from this!" He felt like a light bulb lit above his head. "It's how everything is made right! Get it?"

"Maybe," replied Regina. He was _so _sure, but he was still merely a child. She couldn't stow her hopes in that basket. Still, his slump at her not believing pained her.

Snow paused before moving on. "This will hurt a little bit. But I'm just testing to see how you're injured. You ready?"

Henry nodded, his mask of bravery deployed again, even as he searched out Regina's hand, gripping it tightly upon discovery. She squeezed back. He was remarkably brave, doing his best to hide the pain, but apparently that was something Snow accounted for as she gently probed his calf and ankle for injuries. Though the child Snow Regina had known was open, optimistic to a naive degree, even after her mother's death, it was quite obvious that Snow the woman had seen much and survived by the persona she projected more than any royal priviledge. It served to reason this would run in the family. and she knew it. Henry winced a few times as she poked and turned his foot, but overall, it didn't seem too bad, as far as Regina could tell.

The scuff of boots on sandy dirt announced David's approach. "How's my truest knight?""

"Looks like a sprain, I think," replied Snow as she tightly wrapped her scarf tightly around his foot. "This should keep down the swelling."

"Ah," replied David with a theatrical smirk. "Your first battle injury."

"Can you please not aggrandize reckless injuries like they're macho until _after_ we know it's not serious?" replied Snow sardonically.

"Don't worry," replied Henry. "I won't get on again for a long time. I shouldn't have pushed..."

Regina was surprised by the level of shame in his voice. Hadn't she just said this wasn't his fault? And he hardly seemed a coward.

"Don't say _that_," replied Snow emphatically. She tied off his makeshift brace and moved to take one of his hands in her's. "Don't be silly. All of life is about getting back on the horse." She looked to Regina for backup.

"Indeed," she replied. "And you shall as soon as you can." The moment was surreal to say the very least, as it still seemed she'd just had this conversation with Snow a few days ago. It wasn't often one saw one's legacy unfold before their eyes. She wondered if Snow knew she was parroting her advice. Regina wrapped her arm tighter around Henry, under his arms, doing her best to support him as they got to their feet, but, but at only halfway to their feet, she faltered. The moment he returned the embrace she gasped under the pressure of his weight. A sharp bolt of pain rocketed from the shoulder she'd landed on. Both David and Snow swooped in to catch the pair.

"Alright you two," said David as he hoisted Henry into his arms. "To the hospital we go." Henry and Regina both mirrored the same frustrated grimace in response."Look, with the way things are, we can't afford to worry about untreated injuries. You got it?" he asked Henry. The boy drew in on himself, not happy with the deal.

Though Regina's shoulder certainly did ache, she considered herself fine. At least enough that she didn't need treatment. A hot soak had always helped enough in the past. But she agreed with David that Henry needed his injury looked at. "I'll go if you go," offered Regina. "Deal?"

Henry considered this a moment. "_Ooo_kay..." he finally relented.

Satisfied, David met Snow's eyes. "Great. We'll start back to the car while you two sign out with the stablemaster?" Snow was once again relieved that her husband had the uncanny ability to see what he needed without hints from her.

Once the two were outside earshot range Snow turned back to Regina. "What happened?" she asked. Whatever triggered that horse, it wasn't Henry. But more disturbingly, that horse had been Regina's in _this_ world. It should have been used to the woman - bonded even - and not frightened by sensing the inherent darkness in the woman. That begged the question - what was it that scared the animal so completely?

Regina drew back, uncomfortable with the situation - that she might be kept away from her son by telling the honest truth. _Her_ son? Yes, it was beginning to feel that way inside. But not in a 'growing on her' sense - this was deeper; more natural, like she had raised him as her own - which she had. It was the first thing since waking up next to that well that she felt whole in her feelings - as if she weren't missing something about the world around her. For that instant it was like she was whole again - _her_ self mending the rift between some _other_ self. It felt familiar and right. Safer. The strength she got from it was incredibly seductive.

She'd never been more terrified of something wrapped up with love.

Except Cora.

The love for her mother, even after all the woman had done - _that_ was worse. But both felt toxic.

"Regina?" Snow's voice reeled her back in from her reverie.

"I'm sorry?" she shook her head. Being caught off guard was always embarrassing. - and occasionally dangerous.

Snow searched her eyes, concern now mingling with her suspicious gaze. "Well, first, are you feeling okay? Your eyes don't quite seem like they're focusing."

"I think so."

Snow nodded. "Good. Now, secondly, what the hell happened? Henry didn't see it, but I did."

"See what?" she asked, reflexively switching to her usual defense - denial. Giving up information about herself was all too frightening when you knew people would always use what they learned against you one day. it wasn't an if - it was a when. Cora had taught her the lesson of that weakness the hard way. Apparently it was a tactic Snow recognized, as she simply leveled her eyes in an accusing stare. The jig was up. "Alright. Sorry. I just - nevermind." She sighed. "It was just another flash. But I didn't do magic - it didn't feel exactly like before."

"Well, someone did. You jerked like someone hit you."

She swallowed hard. "I saw a face..."

"Whose face?"

Regina shook her head. "I don't know... it was someone dark - that much I'm certain of. She seemed familiar, somehow."

Snow set her jaw hard. Whatever had just happened wasn't good. And the trigger came from within Regina. "What were you thinking about?" Regina froze. "You were thinking about me, weren't you."

"Not exactly... I was just..." Vulnerability wasn't her strong point, but she had a feeling no opening up was going to have much harsher consequences than hurt feelings. "I was thinking that I could be happy here - that is, if you would let me be part of your family."

Snow's eyes softened. Regina wanting to be a part of her family's life? "And that's all?"

Regina drew in a steadying breath. "And that I haven't had a friend like you since I was a child. Not that I'm presuming anything. I just thought, it would be nice to have a friend as kind and trustworthy as you..."

"And then?"

"Just this sense that such a thought was dangerous - like I'd be betrayed. Which is ridiculous." Snow's eyes widened, but she snapped them back to impassive in a blink. But that micro-expression was telling enough. "Did you betray me?"

"I don't know if we should talk about this here," she dodged.

"In a deserted area outside town? Where better?" Regina asked skeptically. Still, Snow remained silent, fiddling with her wedding ring. "I need to know if I'm being made a fool, and I need to know now."

"You're not," Snow answered quickly. "But it's complicated."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "But you _did_ do something..."

Snow sighed. "Not intentionally."

"What, then?"

"Have you ever heard of the butterfly metaphor?" Regina shook her head. "It's said that a butterfly's wing flap can set off a chain of events that end in a hurricane. I guess I was that butterfly."

"You set off a chain of events that hurt me, is what you're saying." The guilt in Snow's eyes and the sudden slump in her posture were answer enough. Regina mulled it over before nodding. "Alright." She turned, as if heading to join up with Henry and David.

"Alright?" prodded Snow. "Just... alright?"

"Well, you can't tell me, and I don't remember. But it seems be an albatross around your next. I would think that's consequence enough." She shrugged. "Maybe I'll change my mind if I remember. Maybe I won't. But for now, you and your family are all I have in this world - and that's worth something in my estimate. So, for now... alright."

Snow blinked. "Okay." This was about the last thing she expected. But then, the former Evil Queen didn't know all the details. She nodded, and the two headed back to the horse stalls.

"So... you grew up to be quite the rider..." offered Regina to fill in the silence as they walked slowly back. "Did you run away frok home with a gypsy circus?" she teased.

"The circus..?"

"That's the only place I've seen those kind of trick riding acrobatics."

Snow chuckled, shaking her head. She couldn't let herself believe it would last, but for now, perhaps Regina was right. Things were as they were for now - and that was right enough.

* * *

**A/N: **For those playing at home, Dame Eyola is a character from the original novel version of "The Neverending Story". To those (if any) who got it, I raise a glass! She's like a less insane Tom Bombadil ("Lord of the Rings") and is basically mother earth embodied - immortal and reborn every so often like a phoenix, except she's a human looking plant. So, she blooms each season, I guess? Anyway, she acts as a mother to Bastion and helps heal the wound in his heart from his mother's death. In my mind, what fictional character better than that to act as the mother that Regina should have had? If you haven't read the book, do yourself a favor and check it out.


	22. Inner Voices, Outer Monologues

**Author's Notes:** Rather short chapter this time, but as I've said, I'm letting the content dictate that. Next one will probably be more standard. Much love to everyone still reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. I know I say it every time, but it honestly makes my day every time :)

**Shoutouts! A few answers to reviews. **I'm happy that the response to my perspective on Regina has been positive - it's always nice to see it's not just some kind of cracky head canon on my part ;) I honestly see Storybrooke as giving her 28 years to get back to the woman she should have been before Cora and Rumple poisoned her, and that the show is pointing towards a season 3 in which she's on the side of good against a larger threat. Whether that will be Cora or a Rumple that is further embittered by problems with his son and/or Belle, or something else entirely remains to be seen. It's nothing against Rumple, but I feel like his redemption chances are still 50/50 this season. He has a much longer road than Regina to me.

**SkullGauddess: **In the time of the actual chronological time passing, Regina's issues with be resolved shortly. How that's gonna translate to chapters? I'm shooting for it to come to the fore in about 5 chapters.

**Dracomom: **Without spoiling things, the dream confrontations between the Reginas will serve to prep young Regina for a choice that will be forced on her by some pretty major outside forces not too far down the road. Hint: the beast of Storybrooke isn't a simple wild animal or ogre or something.

* * *

**Chapter 22:** Inner Voices, Outer Monologues

Charming had volunteered to stay with Regina and Henry at the hospital while Snow went back home to get prepped for the town meeting. He was eager to do so and while she was pretty sure it had to do with one Dr. Whale, she couldn't blame him. In any other circumstance she would have been beyond irritated by possessive displays. But then she'd think back to Katherine and that pregnancy test and the same sort of irrationality would flare up in her heart. They were both selves now, as David had said, so the feelings between them were real on some level. She hadn't asked, and preferred not to know, just how much David and Katherine "worked" at saving their marriage, but even once was far more than she wanted to stomach. She, at least, was fortunate in the sense that Katherine had her own true love she was reunited with, and therefore posed no messy threat as both selves were merged. Whale, on the other hand, wasn't just single, but _still_ a wolf when it came to women. The irony of his "wolfish" eye for Ruby even would have been funny if Mary Margaret hadn't been a victim of it. In any case, she was happy to stay clear of the creeper for the time being.

Her desire to avoid that whole minefield was about the only thing that was motivating her to tackle the meeting prep alone. Putting together an agenda was more than enough work for one person, but then there was the issue of elections, organizing a committee, addressing certain rumors, setting up an official re-registration of all citizens to track their alternate identities, and an investigation of some random beast killing things around town. And then, of course, the Regina issue. Convincing an entire town to back off was going to be difficult, and while she didn't want to perpetuate fear of the 'young' woman who was largely harmless, but that might be the only way. She was defenseless now, after all. At least Regina hadn't put up a fight when she was "asked" to step down as mayor, so she had made it clear she wasn't actively trying to maintain her stranglehold on the town. That had to count for something, right? She sighed. How could she be exhausted before any real work had been done? Waging a war to take back the kingdom hadn't taken this much out of her. Or maybe it was simply that she was older - mentally, if not physically. She certainly felt like it, anyway.

Snow paused, her hand hovering over her front door's knob, as she heard a melodic voice drifting out. _'Emma?'_ she puzzled before quietly making her way inside. It was certainly her daughter, she realized, and coming from her loft upstairs. She'd never heard the woman sing before, and while on pitch, and in tune, Emma's voice simply didn't have that certain kind of vibrato made for singing. Nonetheless, it was beautiful to her and brought a small smile to Snow's lips as she snuck up the stairs. She had to tell Emma what had happened at the stables anyway, she reasoned.

Asshepeekedover the topmost steps, into the room, she saw that Emma was wearing earbuds, listening, and singing, to music as she packed to face the man who she never wanted back in her life. Yet, she was inexorably tied to biologically, as well as by destiny it would seem, to the guy. And so once again, her daughter was forced down a path not of her own choosing. And again, like so many things that had been asked of her lately, going largely without protest. Sure, she'd complain, but never refused or even tried to get someone else to carry the burden for her. Even when she'd tried to run with Henry, she'd come back because that's what he wanted, and never made him feel selfish for it. It was only then that Snow finally took note of what Emma was singing, and the smile dropped from her face.

There was an ironic detachment to her tone, but that couldn't mask how heartfelt the word seemed to be for Emma as they fell from her daughter's lips.

_I don't care if it hurts_

_I __**wanna**__ have control_

_I want a perfect body_

_I want a perfect soul_

_I want you to notice when I'm not around_

_You're so __**fucking **__special_

_I wish I was special..._

_But I'm a creep_

_I'm a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doin' here?_

_I don't belong here_

_She's running out the door..._

Snow knew the song, even remembered when it was still in constant rotation on the radio, and while she had considered it catchy enough, it hadn't struck a chord until this moment. It was a momentantary window into her little girl's wounded heart - things she didn't say, but had probably felt many times - and not a glimpse Emma had authorized. Snow stood there, her eyes peeking over the top of the stairs as her heart broke, but she couldn't seem to make her feet work until the song seemed to end. Quickly, she pivoted, trying to retreat before her unintentional prying was caught, but she knew she was a second too late when she heard Emma yelp in surprise.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Snow apologized loudly as she ran back down the stairs. "I didn't mean to!"

Emma's footfalls weren't long behind. "Didn't mean to _what_? Completely invade my privacy? Or just get _caught_?" asked Emma. If it had just been Mary Margaret, and not her mother, she wouldn't have been anything more than a touch embarrassed. But she found herself getting quite angry, even without knowing why. It was clearly innocent - Mary Margaret was no snoop, and Emma had believed she was home alone. She was just singing to herself, after all, what was the big deal? She was vulnerable - that was what. Mary Margaret knew her better than anyone ever had, and could read Emma as if she'd grown up with, or raised her or whatever, and that hadn't changed with the return of Snow. If anything, it became deeper, as Snow White remembered little facial expressions of her family - the ones whose blood ran through her veins too. Also, apparently, the DNA that made her smile like her father, scrunch her eyes a certain way when she was worried, like her grandfather, and set her jaw like her mother when she was trying to keep her fists to herself. The woman had a cheat sheet that Emma did not, and hiding her feelings had become nigh on impossible. Which meant Mary knew exactly what was going on in Emma's head as she watched her - and why she hadn't wanted to be caught. She knew all this, but that didn't mean she wasn't still angry.

Snow frowned. "_Emma.._. " Her shoulders sagged and he sighed in frustration defeat. "Both."

Emma spun on her heel and turned her back on Snow. Partly because she was angry, but also because she couldn't help the crack of a smile threatening to show itself. She wasn't about to let the woman off that easily, but she'd be damned if Mary Margaret didn't have a way of puncturing the tension when things got uncomfortable. _'Well, you do kinda have my chin'._ It was great most of the time, giving Emma an out whenever things got a little too 'real', but it sucked when she was legitimately angry. "How long were you spying on me?" she finally ground out.

"I wasn't sp-"

"How long?"

"Only a minute..."

Emma turned back around. "So long enough."

"I didn't think I was - no, that's a lie... I didn't mean to, though. I was just curious, and when I saw... Emma, I know you're embarrassed, but I saw you were upset and I couldn't help watching. You know I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. I didn't mean to pry." Snow sighed. "You just play your cards so close to your chest. I was surprised. I haven't gotten to see those walls around your heart down very often, and- "

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "That's because that stuff is private."

"I know... I'm sorry... but you know you don't have to be afraid of letting me see, right? I'll never use any of it against you. You know that. Don't you?"

Emma unbristled at this. "Yeah. I know," she replied after a pregnant pause. "Look, Mare - I know I'm overreacting here, but you've gotta understand - I can't do this whole family thing all at once. And you know better than..." She shook her head. "It's stupid, and I know that, but it's like you've got these Xray Specs and I know you saw something I didn't want you to, because you're you, and I _know_ you saw it." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Everything that's been going on, and this thing with Bailey, it's been dredging up a ton of stuff I thought was gone, or that I tried to forget, and I guess I'm feeling like that insecure, lost kid I was with him, is gonna take back over and I've gotta protect her. If that makes any sense at all? I sound like I'm Sybil..."

"No, I get it. But I'm the one with multiple personalities here," Snow replied, offering Emma a small smile. "I sometimes feel like that when the Mary Margaret in me starts to freak out. She _was_ designed to be the weak, meek little woman Regina wanted, if you recall. But then I remember something, and when I do, she calms down. You know what that thing is?"

Emma shrugged flippantly. "What? That she's really a badass? No, wait - her favorite things, right? Like raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, and the smell of fabric softener?" To her surprise, Mary Margaret simply responded with a gentle smile at the barb.

"Better than that. You know, I don't remember much of her, but one thing my mother used to tell me when I'd feel sad, that even when it's hard to see the light, and you're busy seeing your side of the sorrow, it's easy to forget that you're not alone. But that no one is alone, because somewhere out there, there's always _someone_ on your side. So, when Mary Margaret starts whispering fears or wants to give up, I remember that she hasn't had to be afraid of being alone for over a year, because Emma Swan always had her back - and would always be there to take care of her."

"Oh." It was all Emma could think to say and immediately broke eye contact, staring at the floor as she scuffed the floor with the toe of her boot. "Well... I guess that's true."

Snow peered up at her daughter, who had been _her _protector a mere week ago. "So, maybe when that little Emma Swan is filling your head with doubts and fear and feels alone in the world... maybe you can let her know that Snow White is here now... and she'll always have someone on her side. She's not alone. And she'll never ever be again?"

There was a long pause and Snow swallowed hard. It was a big gambit, as she wasn't just throwing out a statement. This one required a response from Emma. She hoped she wasn't pushing too hard too fast. Finally, Emma was able to pull together the nerve to look back up to meet her mother's eyes. She nodded. "I think I can do that."

Snow's smile widened and she nodded. "Good." She took a step up the stairs. "So, if you wanna talk about i-"

"No," Emma shot back quickly, though a bit harsher than she'd intended. "I just... no. There's certain things I'm not ready to open up about and I don't need to open up a bunch of old wounds right before I have that... talk with Henry."

"I understand," replied Snow, pulling her foot off the step and she turned to make her way back downstairs.

She tried to hide her disappointment, but Emma could read her almost as well as Mary could her, and this expression always made her feel like she'd just kicked a puppy. Or told a kid that Santa wasn't real. Not that she could be sure of that one anymore. She didn't want to know. The way things went in Storybrooke, he'd probably end up being the Grinch _after_ his heart had grown three sizes or something. Wait, who ran the toyshop in town? She shook her head and groaned at herself, filing the musings away for the next time Henry got on one of his fairy-tale theorizing tangents. He always seemed to wish she had more to contribute. "Speaking of Henry, where is he? And David and Regina for that matter?" She looked Snow up and down, suddenly noticing the dirty and battered state of the woman's clothes. "What the hell happened to you?"

Snow cringed. She'd forgotten why she'd even headed to Emma's room in the first place. She raised her hands in a calming gesture. "Before I tell you, let me preface this by saying it's nothing serious. As far as I know, anyway."

"_Mare..._ spit it out. You're freaking me out here."

"They're at the hospital."

"What?!"

"It was just a small riding accident!" she reassured Emma. "I'm pretty sure he just twisted his ankle."

"I thought you and David said he wasn't ready to ride alone!" She didn't know much about horses, but she did know three things: they liked sugar cubes, hated rodeo clowns, and lots of people broke their necks when they fell off them.

"He wasn't - he was riding with Regina."

"You let my kid ride with an amnesiac?!"

Snow cocked her head to one side, looking a touch exasperated at the implication that she had been reckless with Henry's safety. "She's an excellent rider - always has been - and she didn't forget _that_ stuff."

Emma scowled and planted her hands on her hips. She wasn't going to let herself go off on a Mayor Mills-style tirade about someone doing something to "_her_ son" - especially when it was an accident that only hurt him as badly as he could have done alone, climbing a tree - but she was understanding the impulse better now. "Can we not go more than one week at a time without _someone_ in this family going to the hospital? I swear, we should just move in _there_. Or get our own wing or something."

Snow smirked at this - also happy her daughter was at least level headed about the incident. It implied a certain measure of trust in her parents, which was something she still needed reassurance of. "Well then, it's definitely a good thing Maine provides medical insurance to state employees like us. "

"I take it Regina is fine?"

"They're checking for a concussion, but I don't think she had one."

"I don't suppose we got lucky and the knock to the head miraculously restored her memories, Gilligan's Island style, did we?" asked Emma.

"I think that only works with coconuts."

"Figures," replied Emma with a playful roll of her eyes. "So, they should be back soon?"

"As far as I know."

Emma glanced back into the bedroom. "Damn."

"What?"

"I was hoping for an excuse to put off finishing that," she replied, hiking her thumb over her shoulder. "You know how hard it is to decide what to wear to arrest your dick of an ex?"

"I'm afraid not. I was the thief in me and David's relationship, remember?" she joked, Snow's wry expression quickly folded into a frown as she realized what was being said. "Wait, packing? Just how far are you and August going?" She knew her mom voice was seeping out again but, for the moment, didn't care.

"_Relax_ Momma-bear. It's just a precaution. He's in New York. Not Hong Kong. But depending on how he reacts... well, my badge only holds weight in Storybrooke. Maybe Maine. But definitely not past state lines. Ideally, we'll be back before midnight tomorrow. We're leaving first thing tomorrow."

"So you're talking to Henry tonight?"

Emma sighed. "That I am..."

"Ok. Good." Snow nodded, and rather curiously to Emma, retreated down the steps as if on a mission. She shrugged and went back to her packing.

Snow was, in fact, on a small mission. She needed an excuse to get the family out of the house for that talk - including Regina. It was a small kindness, but it seemed the only kind she could provide her daughter these days. Grown women needed wine and ice cream and privacy - not skinned knee kisses, soothed fevers, and hand holding. So, that's what she would give Emma.

When she was back in her room, hopefully safe from Emma overhearing her and perhaps protesting about how Snow didn't need to go out of her way, she pulled out her cellphone and brought up her friend's number. "Hey, Red. Remember how you said we needed a girl's night? You got any plans for after the town meeting?"

Emma smiled to herself as she overheard Mary Margaret talk Ruby into a night out - not that that was a challenge. Was _was_ amazing was that she'd managed to get Ruby to agree to let Regina join them. She knew that Mare had likely set up all three up for an awkward evening. And she'd done it for her, without even wanting any credit.

Because she was her mom. And that, she was coming to understand, is what parents did.

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**A/N: **The song is "Creep" by Radiohead, and honestly, seems like something she would have listened to growing up, given her issues. Hopefully not too "song-ficy" for you all :) I'm planning to largely skip over the town meeting stuff, unless there's an expression of interest by you readers. What that means is probably a couple short snippets of important plot stuff, cut together with some Regina/Henry stuff to facilitate it. And because I want to move quickly into the girl's night scene I've had in my head since the idea for this fic came to me. And the Emma/Bay reunion which is largely already written and waiting to see the light of day.


	23. Man Elephant

**Author's Notes: **I was originally going to post this chapter a bit further down the road, but decided we needed a little more action before another bunch of dialogue. Hope you enjoy it - now that it's tweaked it should help push the non-dream/past sequence as well.

As always, much love for the interest, and especially for taking the time out to leave some feedback. Every author on this site posts because they don't want to be just talking into the wind. :)

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**Chapter 23: Man Elephant**

_"__**Well, well.**__ A bit earlier in the day than I was expecting, but the sooner we resolve this business, the better. I think we can both agree this is for the best."_

_"What's for the best?" cried Regina to the Evil Queen. Here she was again. After the riding accident and after they had all returned from the hospital, the suggestion of a nap had been too tempting, The whole thing - accident, examination, and just general alieness of another day in her future- had been tiring. And now, here she was again. Much more a nightmare than the waking world, even as false as she wished that place to be._

_She suddenly realized she hadn't remembered the last dream, or whatever it was, while she was awake. She was speaking to her true future self. But it wasn't really__** her **__right? It couldn't be._

_"Oh, it's true dear. At least, in our homeland. I buried you so deep..." The Queen ran an index finger along Regina's jaw, and the younger woman felt as if in a trance. "And I __**will**__ do it again!" She violently seized Regina's face, her teeth bared in a poisonous grin. _

_Suddenly she was on the other side of the view, with a weeping Snow's face clutched in her palm through bars. And then she was back home, little Snow's face mirroring the expression. Both eyes so full of heartbreak and confusion. _

_The vision flashed away and she knew the look was on her own face. "How did you get this way? How can you blame a small girl for Mother's evil?!"_

_The Evil Queen threw back her head as she let forth a deep throated, hollow laugh. "That girl may not be evil, but it is__** certainly**__ all her fault!" She clenched her jaw, the false mirth instantly enveloped by a sneer. "That __**girl.**__.. her whole disgusting family bring nothing but death and misery to all they meet!"_

_Regina blinked. "You believe that. Even about Henry? Your son?"_

_"__**Your **__son.__** Your**__ mistake! You've always made the stupid decisions! Trying to love again, weakening us both!"_

_Anger rose in Regina's chest. "Is nothing ever to be __**your **__fault?"_

_"You tell me!" answered the Evil Queen as she shoved Regina back, and the younger woman could feel herself falling back in a manner that felt much like when she'd fallen from Daniel's arms to Storybrooke. _

She blinked, and for one wonderful moment she believed she was back home. That perhaps it had all been one strange dream. But then her lips spilled forth words that were not her own. "Why do you insist on wearing those ratty old shoes, dear? The stairs are always icy this time of year." She realized she was merely a passenger, watching her story unfold.

Snow White shrugged. The girl was a year or two older than when they'd met, now less than half a head shorter than Regina and all awkward proportions as her body made that final sprint into its adult frame. "Because I_love_ them. They were my mother's."

"Love is weakness," she snapped back, taking some satisfaction in the flash of horror in Snow's eyes. But then her head came back to her and the loving queen-mother mask slid back into place. She couldn't be caught showing her true feelings. "Or haven't you been listening to your step-grandmother? Loving old clothes is weak. Fashion aside, those slippers of yours are so worn and the sole so slick you could easily fall. I'm simply worried for your safety."

Snow smiled in relief."I know... but I don't care if I slip. I'll always get up, as long as there's someone there to love me." She looked up at Regina with a sickeningly sappy smile. "You taught me that!"

Regina gave her customary tight smile back. "Indeed I did, dear. Indeed I did."

"I'll be careful. I promise," Snow reassured her.

"See that you are," replied Regina, though Snow had already skipped away. "Gods forbid you simply do the sensible thing," she continued under her breath. "But that's alright. The whole world will pick up the pieces and make it better when_ you _get hurt. Perhaps we can smear pitch on the stairs so you'll never slip again. Certainly, it will ruin everyone else's shoes, but the world _does_ revolve around you, after all."

"Well, she _is_ to be queen," replied a voice over her ear.

Regina immediately jumped, releasing a far more girlish yelp than she had since becoming queen. She spun on her heel, her upper lip twitching in anger at the embarrassment. "Mother! "

"Control yourself child," scolded Cora.

"Queen," replied Regina.

"You'll never be my queen, for you are _my_ child." Regina simply glared back and Cora laughed. "You're getting better at that, but you'll never intimidate me. Now as far as Snow is concerned...that's a problem I can solve... Come." She immediately walked away briskly, not bothering to check if her daughter was on her heels. She'd spent too many years training the girl to not have faith in her obedience. Sure enough, when they'd arrived in her room, her daughter closed the door behind them. "Whatever are you talking about, mother?"

"I'm talking about our family's continued rise, dear."

Regina scowled . "I may not be fond of the King and his daughter, but they are our family now, are they not? Duty requi-"

"There is no higher duty than that of blood." Cora shook her head. "Really, dear, sometimes I wonder if you got any of my sense at all."

Regina ground her teeth. "Did you drag me in here to insult me, or was there a larger purpose?"

"As I said before, Snow is to be queen one day. And what would all the trouble of getting you the throne be worth without your own heir?"

Regina wanted to argue that nothing could make it worth it, but what was worth the arguing at this point? "But even should I..." her stomach twisted at the thought of actually 'trying' with Leopold. "Our child would be still be behind Snow for the crown."

"Not if she's out of the way."

"I don't under... Mama? But... You would kill her?" As much as she fantasized about it, killing someone, especially someone who was a child, would surely turn her into her mother. And that was a nightmare even worse than this.

Cora laughed and shook her head. "I know you're not capable of the easy thing. Not yet, anyhow. _But_ that is why I have found another way. Maleficent," she called into the shadows.

A woman seemed to form from the shadows themselves. Her blonde curly locks were upswept in the most ostentatious tiara Regina had ever seen, carrying a staff in one hand and a raven on her shoulder. The woman's clothes reminded her of a pictures of dark witches she'd seen - except far more fine of dress. As if she were a witch queen, rather than the usual bedraggled, defeated dark creatures fate always doomed evil witches to become. She smiled at Regina, and to the young woman's surprise, it actually seemed more genuine in friendliness than Cora's. "Your Highness," she said, punctuated with a slight curtsy. "I've waited so long to properly meet you."

Regina returned the gesture with a regal head nod, simply on reflex as she asked, "Finally?"

"I doubt you remember me properly, but we met when you were very small. And I visited a few times, though I didn't guest with any but your mother." Regina vaguely remembered a blond woman in black and purple gowns, speaking with her mother, but she knew better than to interrupt Cora when not asked to approach. Her eyes flicked up to the tiara and suddenly that object seemed familiar. They looked like dragon's horns and had frightened her as a child. "You can think of me as something of a... fairy godmother." The title seemed to be distasteful to her tongue.

"But Mother, I thought you said that fairies would have nothing to do with our family...?"

"Not those close-minded minions of the Rheul Ghorm. Of course not!" replied Cora. "You know they think themselves better than the true power that runs in our family."

"I'm not a creature so saccharine and witless," added Maleficent. "But not all fairies are of the Blue Magics."

"You're a Dark Fairy..."

"I knew your mother was exaggerating when she told me you were slow to learn," remarked Maleficent.

Regina furrowed her brow at this... compliment? In any case, she seemed nicer than her mother, further proving that being such a relentlessly unpleasant woman wasn't integral to dark magic. _That _was just Cora. "But why?"

"Silly girl - because you're my daughter. There are no guarantees in this world. Should I die, your father could never guide you. But as your dark fairy guide, she could. And so, that's why she's here. To help our family."

"To take out a naive girl?"

"A naive _princess,_ and as I said, I know I can't get you to kill, yet. I was planning on waiting a few more years, when you would be ready, but I have caught Snow spying on me with my spellbooks twice now. Should she tell the King, they will discover the true nature of my magic and we'll both be ruined. So, the issue must be addressed right away. But really, it would be _so _much easier..."

"I will _not_ kill a child!"

"Yes, yes. That is why Maleficent has a few options for us."

The dark fairy nodded. "First off, we can put the girl under a sleeping curse. She will simply sleep forever. Trapped in a netherworld built of her own regrets. Call it... perpetual nightmare."

"But isn't that what was done to the Queen of the Eastern Lands? And she woke up," replied Regina.

Maleficent scowled at the reminder. "Yes, well, every curse can be broken. You must simply hope to prevent that until your child is guaranteed the throne."

Regina crossed her arms. "So... no guarantee, and years of torturing a girl's soul? I hope the other options are better."

"We can fake my death," replied Cora. "If you're so unhappy being Queen, I will gladly step into your shoes."

"How is that poss-"

"A body switching spell," answered Maleficent.

"To get my life back I must give up half of it!? Never mind being married to Father!"

The dark fairy laughed. "No, of course we couldn't expect agreement to that! You will take over for dear Snow. Cora for you, and the princess in your mother's body. She will have her memory wiped. It will simply seem as if your dear mother has gone senile."

Regina's shuddered. "The thought of wearing that girl's skin already makes mine crawl. The thought of looking in the mirror every day at _that_face... Is there nothing better?!"

"Well... There is one more option. We _could _simply banish her. Send her to another world," said Maleficent. "The odds of her finding her way back are fairly slim. Especially if it's a world without magic."

"But how?" she asked. And why couldn't she escape to such a world? But without her mother's help, such a thing could never be possible.

"Portals can be created in many ways. Simple enough to find and create when you know who to consult. Frame an evil witch or wizard for the deed. Sent to the right world, even the greatest knights could not rescue her from a magic-less world."

"And then, that cowardly lion Leopold, heartbroken, would need a new heir. _Yours_," finished Maleficent.

She had only shared a bed with Leopold that first night, as consummation was required, but thankfully he had shown no other interest since. For this plan, she would have to be a regular guest each night. It was not just distasteful, but a betrayal of her heart and her love for Daniel. She could feel the flames of anger in her heart grow even with just the thought. But she knew her mother, and something would happen to Snow one way or another, and she'd find herself in the King's bed eventually. "The thought is still repulsive, but I will not have the blood of a child on my hands. If banished, she can still find a place in a new world."

Maleficent clapped her hands together around her staff, her pet raven fluttering its wings in response. "Wonderful! I do love a good game of subterfuge! And I have just the deadbeat of a gnomish shaman we can blame it on! He has it coming..."

Regina swallowed hard. She had done the best to close her heart off, but still ached with each dark deed - and this plan made her queasy. "Yes... well, I'll leave you to it. Just tell me what part I must play when you've your plan. I have other things to attend to as Queen." '_Like a nap_,' she thought. "A pleasure to have met you Maleficent."

"The pleasure is all mine. I hope we might call each other friends one day." Regina nodded absently, leaving without acknowledging her mother.

_The scene went black. "How is any of that Snow's fault?"_

_"Don't you see? Without the brat, none of this would have been necessary," her own dark voice replied. "And without __**you**__ in my head, we could have just easily killed her back then."_

The world returned and somehow she knew it was a few weeks later. She was in her room, brushing her hair out. It was two days to Princess Snow's 14th birthday and the gifts were arriving by the cart full. Her mother had decided this would afford them the best opportunity to get rid of Snow. She sighed. Her nerves were exhausting her even more than the weeks of forced cheer.

Suddenly, she saw a reflection of a swirling puff of smoke behind her and she spun around. It was Maleficent. She narrowed her eyes. "Can I help you?"

"In a manner of speaking. But really, the question you should be asking is, how can I help _you_."

"You brought the mirror?"

"Not yet. Tonight, I have another matter to discuss with you. Regarding your mother's plans for you. She means to hurt you."

"This is hardly news."

"True. But even evil should have its limits." What was truly surprising was she genuinely seemed to mean it.

Still, Regina knew better than to trust a friend of her mother's fully. "While I firmly believe in that, how can I trust _you_ do? You are my mother's friend after all."

"The result of an unfortunate series of events." The dark fairy smiled."Hold on to that suspicious nature. It will take you far. And no, my motives for helping you are not pure. But they serve you as much as myself. You see, all power comes with a price."

Regina nodded. "So you believe this plan to be... pricey. But how? It's just a little magic. I've seen my mother do far worse and suffer so little."

"Oh, I'm not speaking of the plan you know of. I'm speaking of the real one. The one where she steals your body, installs herself as queen, restores her youth, and disposes of 'herself' - you - that is, by exposing your plot to get rid of Snow."

"She would never kill me!" cried Regina. At least, that's what she wanted to despite everything, there was still love in her heart for her Mama, and she couldn't imagine killing her.

Maleficent gave her a pitying smile. "Oh, really? She simply plans to banish you to the realm you were planning to send Snow - or so she'll tell the King. But _you_ have a different fate in her mind. You shall be trapped in a realm between worlds for all eternity."

"But... she wanted Snow out of contention... blood family before all else..." mumbled Regina.

"Oh, honey... don't you see? With herself as queen, she can bed the king, and try again. Once she bears a boy, she can see Snow married off to some other kingdom. She simply didn't believe you capable of such things. And her blood runs through yours. This is her way of fixing her mistakes." Maleficent leaned forward on her staff. "Of course, she can't simply banish someone with your power."

"P-power? What power have I without a title?"

"Why, magic of course. You know it grows stronger with each generation."

"I don't have magic! And I wouldn't want if it I did."

"That is a matter for debate. And I believe spinners to be wiser than millers in this matter." She shrugged, as if it were inconsequential. "But no matter. It's what Cora believes, thus she cannot trust that her stubborn daughter - that would be you - won't find a way back one day. Should you return, her plans would be ruined. Better to erase her mistake and start again. With Snow as a role model, she trusts that this time her daughters will be much better examples of what a lady should be. Marry her off, or kill her when she's served her purpose."

Regina shook her head. "But I don't understand. What does this have to do with you?"

"Don't you recall? I'm the one who can make the potions she needs. I may be dark, perhaps even evil - but I still have my heart. Unlike Cora - your apple tree contains more heart than she. And I refuse to pay that price. And while I am not powerful enough to defeat Cora, I trust that by the time she figures out how to return, you _will_ be. And if not just you, as a team, we most certainly are."

"Unlikely," replied Regina angrily.

"Oh, _that_ I _doubt_," sing-songed a strange male voice. "_How_ do you expect to protect yourself, should she return?" A small man with glittery, scaly skin appeared before her. "And you _do_ want that don't you? Or have you a death wish?"

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Why, Rumplestiltskin, dearie. Perhaps you've heard of me?" he declared with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

Regina swallowed hard, doing her best to hide her fear at the man her mother had told so many horror stories about. "I - I see. Why would you help me?"

"I'm already providing the looking glass - not that Cora knows that. Maleficent here and I go way back. You don't break your deal with me, and I can be quite a valuable ally." His face morphed into an angry scowl. "But your mother never could be trusted."

Regina sighed. "Of that, I am all too aware." The price of that lesson had been Daniel's heart. And her own. She turned to the imp that looked far less frightening than the beast in her childhood nightmares. "So, you're not here to claim me?"

A smile crept across his face. "No, of course not. But I _am_ here to make a deal!"

Had Cora's warning against deals with Rumplestiltskin been another of her lies? "I will never give up a child..." she replied cautiously.

He giggled in a way that reminded her of a chattering monkey. "Dearie! No! I wish simply to teach you, so that you may protect yourself from her return. You strike that deal, and I provide you the tools you need to take her out of the picture."

"Surely you could destroy Cora yourself. What need have you of me?"

"Because, one day you will do something to change the lives of everyone in this realm. Something that I cannot, but needs to be. I have foreseen it."

Regina turned away in thought and her gaze found its way to her looking glass. She looked past her reflection, as if she could see what lay beyond it. Another land, perhaps? All she had wanted was freedom. She had little left in this world. Why not try a new one?

"Besides, with magic, almost anything you've lost can come back to you... _if_ you know _where_ to _look!_" he singsonged.

Daniel. That had to be what he was implying. She spun back around quickly. "Deal."

Rumplestiltskin's black eyes glittered in delight. "Excellent! Now, let me tell you of our plan!"

_The sleeping Regina felt herself being propelled forward, everything hazy as it resolved itself into another scene. _

The night of Snow's birthday gala. The royal dais was packed with a display of gifts, and standing tall and elegant in the center was the mirror. Maleficent had instructed her that she would give Cora a temporary power-blocking potion, rather than the soul switching concoction, and to not drink anything Cora gives her until she, her mother, and Snow were near the mirror. Cora would be told the mirror would be look to emit like to look like it was sucking the girl in, activated by a particular phrase. But in reality, she would have to be pushed. Her mother would drink with Regina, and once the quick swap was complete, she would push Snow out of the faux way and then shove her daughter, now in her old body, into the portal, as if to save the princess. The reality would be quite different.

Finally, the moment had come and it was all Regina could do to retain her mask of calm. Cora handed her a glass of the wine, and Snow a glass of grape juice, before turning to address the crowd. "Honored guests! Lords and Ladies! You have no idea how delighted I am to have the honor to share in this wonderful evening! Snow, I have known you but a few years, but I could love you no less than if you were of my blood. You are turning into a most beautiful young woman - of heart and of face. May you live as happily as you have made me and my family for the rest of your life!" She raised her glass in a toast and the hall was filled with cheers and claps.

Regina's stomach twisted in illogical jealousy, making the liquid settle most uncomfortably. Her mother had never said anything so glowing to her in all her life, and it was like she was twisting the dagger in gut, knowing that her mother believed she was about to betray her own daughter. As the cheers went up, she gripped Snow's arm tightly, causing the girl to look up at her, startled. "Do you trust me?" she whispered intensely.

Snow simply looked up, confusion and some fear filling her large, round eyes.

She shook the girl's arm urgently, trying to snap her out of it. "Do you trust me?!"

The princess nodded. "Yes, of course, with my life!" Her fear was growing.

"The run! There's no time to explain!"

Snow hesitated again, her eyebrows twisting in on themselves. "Cme with me?"

"I can't!" Regina shook her head. "_Run!_ Fly from this room! _Now!_"

Snow took off without further hesitation, and the crowd began to murmur in response, a few palace guards in pursuit, the rest drawing their swords. Regina turned back to Cora, and she could see her mother's face fill with confused rage as the portal illusion engulfed the mirror. The crowd began to panic at the show of magic.

"What is the meaning of this?!" shouted Leopold in anger from the back of the room.

She could tell Cora knew what was about to happen and the woman raised a gloved hand, forming it into a claw. Her face changed from anger to alarm when nothing happened. The older woman's lips pulled back into a crinkled sneer. "_How could y-_"

She never got to finish the sentence as Regina roughly shoved her mother into the mirror. Her hands flew out, but much as the wine goblet was sucked in, Cora quickly lost her grasp on the mirror's edge and she followed, the surface shattering behind her.

Regina stared at the shattered mirror. Stunned by relief and grief, she was frozen, she knew not how long. Her mother was gone... in favor of Snow? She jumped when she felt a gloved hand on her shoulder and she snapped her head in the direction of the unwelcome touch. It was Leopold, who looked puzzled, but grateful.

"You have saved my sweet Snow again... I believe I owe you my life twice over now..." She remained silent, trembling. "Regina?"

And then she woke up.

* * *

"Regina?" a woman's voice now.

"Maleficent?" she muttered sleepily.

"What? No. It's Emma."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Huh?" Green eyes met her brown.

"Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty," replied Emma, chuckling at her own little joke. "We're leaving for the town meeting."

Regina sat up. Waking up in this place was far less disorienting than the first. "Oh, yes. Thank you."

She caught Emma shooting a concerned glance to Snow and David, who returned it. Emma quickly turned back. "Are you... okay? Are you remembering things?"

Regina searched her mind but it remained foggy. "No... it was just some kind of dream... something about a woman with horns? A mirror... a party?" She sighed. "It was a little unsettling, but no..."

Snow appeared next to Emma, worry in her face. "Ok... well. We left some pizza money on the table. Henry can explain that to you, I'm sure." She forced a friendly smile.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," added David. He put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "We need to get going."

With that, the trio were quickly out the door, leaving Regina sitting puzzled by their behavior and worried about their worry for her.

"Mal... Man...? Man'elephant?" No. That wasn't right...

* * *

**A/N: **A town meeting, some Regina/Henry time, and a few reveals next time. Although I had always planned on Rumplestiltskin having had the key to getting rid of Cora, and sending her to Wonderland, as part of the plot (through a mirror no less), I had expected some Maleficent in Regina's early years. I still expect her to be the Enchanted Kingdom's equivalent of evil fairies, since she was one in the original Sleeping Beauty story. For those who want to talk OUaT over the hiatus, you can find me on twitter at minor_shan and Tumblr at StorybrookePigeonPost (links are also in my profile).


	24. The Pie Isn't a Lie

**Author's Notes**: Sorry for the extended wait between chapters. The world kinda came crashing down around my ears for the past month and it's hard to focus, let alone be inspired when everything tilts on its ear. Updates should be more regular again.

* * *

**Chapter 24:** The Pie Isn't a Lie

Emma planted her forehead on the institutional faux-wood desk and heaved a groan of a sigh, her eyes slammed shut against the noise. Or, at least, that's what she wanted to do. Like she'd spent many a noisy evening in a group home in her past. Except these weren't shouting kids and this government funded building was simply designed as a meeting room. One most people, who hadn't had to deal with 'the public', viewed as halls of orderly bastions of democracy. Decorum and points of order and... white wigs or whatever.

Instead of retreating into herself, Emma let out of a grumbling sigh before pulling herself to her feet. "Enough!" she shouted over the din of unruly citizens. Still amazed at holding any sort of authority, she was surprised as the cacophony of voices settled down. It's more than Dr. Hopper ever managed - anyone but the 'Madam Mayor'. That was an uncomfortable realization in and of itself, but she pushed it aside, rationalizing that any of the former royals that made up the council could have managed it if they didn't risk resentment from a populace formed from mixed kingdoms, now democratized by their home of 28 years.

She leveled her gaze at the assembled crowd. "_Thank you,"_ she replied to the quieted mob, doing her best to sound reasonable. "We all deserve a voice. Right?" she prodded, and was rewarded by a low rumble of assent. "Right. And that's not gonna happen if we all shout over each other. So calm down. You'll all get your chance. _If _you wait your turn." She paused, planting her knuckles on the table, staring them down as she had so many bail skippers. Finally, the room calmed, she nodded. "Okay." She rifled through Mary Margaret's handwritten, and quickly photocopied, meeting agenda. "So... Mr. Brennenbukser is gonna outline how the elections will be set up. Pretty much like the Sheriff's election, but any of you will be invited to run - I'll let him go into the details. And again, people, questions _after _he's finished." She glanced over to the blonde, bookish man. "Hans?"

Emma gladly settled into a seat next to David, who leaned in with a wry smile.

"Way to sheperd the herd," he whispered.

"Never one for the subtle jokes, huh?" she replied.

He shrugged. "Hey, y'know: Me find. Snow talk."

Emma rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile. "Indeed."

"Seriously though... seems to me the shepherd thing runs in the family. Lucky for us, you've got a the crook of a tongue from your mother. I doubt some whistles and tongue clicks would get these ones in line."

Emma grunted in response before settling back, clearly a little uncomfortable at the 'family-ness' of the moment. Any mentions of where she came from tended to do that - especially referencing her own behavior. David did the same out of respect for her feelings, though not without shooting her a glance. He was surprised to see her doing the same, and then shrugging at him. "You find. She talk. Me fight." She punctuated it with a little crooked smile and he tried not to let his melting heart seep into his smile. This whole town leader thing might not be so bad if he had his two girls - _women _- at his side. Especially Emma, who seemed to be as uncomfortable as him, but able to salve it with a little snark that Snow's regal upbringing would never allow.

* * *

Regina and Henry stood hunched over a cookbook. "So, this is how meals are made in this realm? Like spells?"

Henry laughed. "Nah. Plenty of ways. Microwaves and take-out stuff... not that you liked any of them. That's why I thought..." He shrugged. "You liked home-cooked meals best before."

"Well... I do like to cook. We simply didn't write down the... recipes you call them? And with all these wonders to explore... considering we've _both_ taken a fall today - perhaps whatever you think easiest?"

"So, pizza?" he asked.

She chuckled. "I'll trust your judgment as you did mine. Fair?"

Henry grinned. "Fair." Then he frowned. "You still like mushrooms?"

A bit of puzzlement mixed into the returning smile, she nodded. "Certainly."

"Okay. Good."

As the boy walked off to her purse, his words couldn't help but stick. He knew her food tastes. She'd raised him. She knew that, but real evidence was making it more than a game of pretend. Was this something she should push? It seemed like he wanted to say something... She wasn't sure she was ready for that.

* * *

"It's a manticore!" someone shouted from the back.

"They're extinct, moron," answered another.

"A chupacabra!"

"That's a myth!"

"Yeah, that's what we thought about ourselves, too!"

The moment the 'Beast of Storybrooke' had been put on the table for discussion, it seemed everyone had an opinion - but no one had an answer.

Another stood up, waving gray scale printouts. "These pictures tell all you need to know!" As David took the proffered papers he squinted at the blurry images. A carcass, eviscerated... though he wasn't sure which side was up. Animal footprints. A chicken coop whose wire fencing was so damaged it looked more like a briar patch. "It's a wolf - a werewolf!"

David glanced up in alarm. "Don't ju-"

"We all know Ruby is your lapdog, don't try to protect her!"

"It isn't even wolf's time!" protested Snow.

"So? I keep hearing magic is different here. How do we know _that's _the same, huh?!" a skittish white-haired man in vest, round glasses and bowtie asked.

Red looked somewhere between horrified and disgusted. "Because I would _never_ endanger anyone's lives - or livelihoods - if there was the remotest chance I might turn!"

"People will say anything to save their skin - or _pelt_ in this case!" answered the first man.

"Don't be a dolt!" cried out Dr. Whale. "I've known her for most of my life, and would trust her with it! Just as you have all trusted me in the care of your families! If you can't, or won't trust her, trust me and my duty to keep everyone in this town healthy."

This settled crowd to a low murmur again, until another shout from the back sounded. "It's a dragon!" This time it seemed more realization than accusation, but the crowd now seemed electrified by fear.

Snow rolled her eyes as David's shoulders slumped in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath before holding the blurry photos aloft. "It's _not. A. Dragon._" The authority in his voice drew the crowd's attention back to him. "I've seen a few. I've slain one. There's no way something that big could be flying around unseen! So relax... judging by the tracks here... it's likely a wyvern at the very worst."

Another row of arguing and yelling and Emma leapt back to the podium, striking the face of her badge on the wooden top as a makeshift gavel. "He's right! And panicking isn't gonna solve anything, so chill!" When the group had returned to some modicrum of decorum, she motioned for David to take her place.

He nodded. "As most of you know, I have led outnumbered forces to take back the kingdom from evil." He avoided directly mentioning the Queen. If he was to garner any sympathy there, the last thing he needed was to plant a fresh reminder of Regina's past deeds in their heads. "I have slain a dragon, and brought peace. But I never did those things alone. I did them with you, or someone just like you. Together, good can always triumph... so handling a wyvern, or something similar, should be no challenge at all. We need volunteers - if you cannot fight, keep watch. If you know how to hold a blade or knock an arrow, we need you ready to hunt when the call comes. This is no 'Beast of Storybrooke' - it's a '_Pest_ of Storybrooke'. No more." A few murmurs of assent washed over the citizens. "Dr. Hopper will be passing a sign up around. If you're interested, we'll need a name, number, and skillset. That could be battle experience, or electronics experience. Surveillance will be just as key as a good sword. Or even a good gun." He scanned the crowd. He'd learned, as a makeshift general in the Enchanted Forest, that silence was a better measure of group, and a better punctuation to end discussion, than simply declaring it over. "Right. Now, on to less... clear matters. Snow?"

His wife stood up. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumors by now, about the former mayor," she began. "Issues have become... complicated..."

* * *

The pizza had been intriguing, though she could see why it wasn't something her other self had eaten regularly. She didn't know cheese and bread could get that greasy. After they had cleaned up, Henry had said he wanted to show her something even 'cooler', which after some time with the boy she'd deduced was a colloquialism for 'good'. He'd been engaging in these little things all day, even at the hospital, and if he hadn't been so charmingly delighted at sharing these things with her, the patronizing aspect probably would have started to grate. Instead, she couldn't help be drawn in by his enthusiasm; the two of them just felt right. Like with Daniel. But different, of course.

Henry held a black rectangle in his hand, pointing it at the mysterious black mirror thing like she was used to seeing a dagger wielded to warn an attacker. He regarded her with a small smirk. "You promise not to freak out?"

"Freak out means, get upset I gather?" She returned the look, raising an eyebrow. "Now how can I promise such a thing if I don't know what's about to happen?"

He regarded her with a look beyond his years, looking so much like the young Snow it was eerie. But it painted a smile on her face. She didn't want to marry the king, but having Snow as family hadn't been an unpleasant idea. She'd simply prefer, or _had_ preferred she reminded herself, it to be a sister kind of thing. She'd always wanted a sibling - a partner in crime, so to speak - a relationship she'd seen between so many other family's children.

"Good point," Henry finally replied with a small smile. With that, he held up the black rectangular thing and pressed his thumb to it a few times. Regina wasn't exactly proud that she started in surprise as the black suddenly lit up.

"It's not magic, don't worry," replied Henry casually.

Regina leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. "Well, it certainly looks like it." She watched as images of people flashed by at dizzying speed. It switched into what looked like moving drawings. Almost living paintings, but caricatures like one might commission for a few pence at a summer festival. "It looks like a madman's dreams... what's the purpose of this device?"

Henry shrugged. "Fun, I guess? To watch stories... you know, like plays. Just, you can watch them at home."

"Flashing, loud, frenetic images. I see no stories here. Seems it would scramble one's mind. Or is made for someone with the attention span of a goldfish." Henry chuckled. "What?"

He grinned and something inside her heart seized at being regarded so. Again, she was reminded of little Snow, but the layered depth of a lifelong relationship in his eyes nearly melted her. "Nothing... it's just that you say that all the time. Most moms say it'll rot your brain."

"So I'm not incorrect."

"You still let me watch educational stuff. And 'age appropriate' movies." She leveled her gaze at him in a way that reassured him, his Mom was still in there. Somewhere. He shrugged, trying to change the subject. Anyways these are just previews. I thought we could watch one of the stories from your land. Maybe it would make you feel a little less homesick?"

She wasn't really certain what to expect, but then, if this was essentially a puppet show, what could be the harm? It wasn't like she had any other suggestions and didn't want to hurt his feelings. She nodded.

Henry smiled. "Great! Okay, so, I figured, given everything going on, that I should avoid a movie you'd know the people in. Or maybe might run into. Not that any of these are really accurate to your real lives."She suppressed a smile at the boy sounding like a little tutor, teaching. "But I figured watching 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves' would be super weird, and maybe even dangerous?"

"Snow cavorted with dwarves?"

"Long story. Anyway, I can't read you anything from my book. Y'know, cause of the possible magical penalty fees, thanks to whatever spell you're under." Regina gave gave him a small shake of the head. "You know - magic comes with a price?"

"Right."

"But I thought we might be able to share this... it's a good story. Even if it isn't exactly right."

Regina smiled broadly. "If you want to, then I'd love to."

Henry returned the smile. "It's called 'Beauty and the Beast'..." After meeting Belle at Granny's one day, and hearing her talk to Red, it suddenly clicked in his brain that she was _the_ Belle. Luckily, Belle was often in the library, and Rumplestiltskin certainly didn't look like a hairy beast, so he figured this was safe for his Mom. And he truly was eager to share this world's stories with her, and hear her remembrances of the Fairytale Land, without her guard up, or trying to make him feel crazy.

To Regina's relief, once done with those so-called 'previews', the movie opened much like watching a storybook from her childhood. It almost felt like being at her father's knee again, or being tucked into bed, and having someone read to her. _'Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a prince in shining castle...' _Despite being drawings, Henry had been right. As she became drawn in, she found the unreality of it fade, and the familiar world soothing an anxiety she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. Even a moving painting that featured her home, without the myriad devices here, and familiar clothes and professions, was a world she was happy to get drawn into. Much like one of her many books with which she'd escape from her mother.

"Do people often break into song in you world?" Regina asked, not long into the movie.

Henry cracked up. "No - not any more than Fairy Ta- uh, the Enchanted Forest. Which, from what Grams has said, is like, not ever." He shrugged. "It's just an entertainment thing, I think."

Regina nodded. "We did the same with some plays and puppet shows. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised... so, this Belle is in Storybrooke?"

Henry nodded, but didn't reply, as he'd become reengrossed with the movie. She was fine with that though. The thought that there was another young woman, like herself in many ways, was intriguing. How alike remained to be seen, given what Henry had said about inconsistencies between these stories and the real occurences, but surely it could be interesting. At the very least they both wanted adventure... freedom. Assuming the heart of the tale was true, she thought they could be great friends.

After all, they both loved beasts, despite all good sense._ Her's_ just happened to be her mother.

* * *

"So, in effect, the Queen is dead," concluded Snow.

"Or, at the very least, in a coma," added Emma.

"Yeah, people wake up from those all the time!" Someone shouted from the back.

"My case was more unusual than not," replied David cooley.

"And it's not a literal coma," added Dr. Whale.

"How do we know she's not faking? Now would be the best time to get rid of her. When she's helpless!" A murmur swelled in the crowd.

"Don't be foolish." The Blue Fairy's voice rose above the crowd, and Snow raised an eyebrow at the display. A surge in her energy making her inherent magic crackle, and lending her petite form an imposing air, like some echo of the magic that allowed her to grow in size back home. Or maybe it was spending 28 years as Mother Superior was the rub. "I would not think to tell Dr. Whale what to do in the operating room or you how to fix a carburetor, nor should you lecture myself of magical matters, Mr. Roland." Her authority established, the hall was silent. "Make no mistake, just because she has no magical knowledge doesn't mean she has no power. She is, in fact, more dangerous."

"So let's lock her up!"

Blue shook her head. "Kindness is the wisest path in _all _matters. Regina's life is an excellent example in this. My sisters and I are working on the matter, and close to breakthrough. In the meantime, the best way to ensure your safety is to treat Regina as you would any stranger. Locking her up, violence of the heart as well as the hand... anything could set her off, and release her magic in a dangerously uncontrolled manner. Locking her up could trigger the same."

"So she just goes free then?!"

Blue shook her head. "I have examined her, and the Evil Queen is indeed locked up. It's simply a magical one."

Snow nodded. "She isn't the same woman, and punishing the girl wouldn't be right. Should she regain her memories, the trial will continue as planned."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Quite unlikely," replied Blue.

"But a bridge we will cross should it become the case," said David. "But for now, we urge you to do as Blue instructed."

"And we're keeping her under official surveillance," said Emma. "So you can rest assured she's being watched." She hoped it would be enough to sate the more bloodthirsty villagers.

"Any attempts to harm Regina _will_ be taken as an act of aggression against my family as long as she remains under our supervision," added Snow, leveling her gaze with the assembled crowd. She nodded to Emma.

"Right, so, uh, unless there's something else..?" Emma looked to her parents and a few others, but no one deemed to have more to say. "Right, meeting adjourned." She quickly clacked her badge down on the podium twice, before someone could start another topic. She swore it was never ending in this place.

The mood of the crowd was quite clearly mixed, but as long as they weren't rioting, it was fine by her. These fairy-tale people seemed to look for excuses to take up arms as a mob - it had happened twice already in the space of a week. She still wasn't sure why everyone had pitchforks. Or where they'd gotten the torches. Or why, even - _streetlights_ people. Storybrooke has them. It was just one of the ways she was reminded of the surreality of her life now.

With the curse broken, she was feeling ever more like the outsider, even as she was becoming a part of something; a family. Like she'd suddenly been dropped into a foreign country. Much like Regina was probably feeling, she realized. Only part of one world, so not wholly a part of community that had a foot in both. She wasn't exactly thrilled with Regina spending too much time with Henry - not that she believed she'd hurt him. Fluffy, kind of naive, and certainly out of her depth Regina especially not. But unintentional flare ups... that was entirely possible. But the kid had a way about him that just might be good for her, just as it was for Emma. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned to see Snow's worried face.

"Not looking forward to 'the talk' with Henry?" she asked.

Emma blinked, realizing she'd probably been frowning.. "It's, uh... a little soon for that don't you think? I mean, the kid hasn't even had a crush yet..."

It was Snow's turn to blink this time. "Not that! No, I meant-" It was then that she noticed Emma's deadpan expression. And promptly backhanded the blonde's shoulder. "You know it's weird enough that we've talked about... but joking about your son's... yeah. Anyway." She huffed and tilted her head to one side. "Deflection accomplished. But you know what I'm asking."

Emma crossed her arms and frowned. "Yeah. And to answer your question, yes, I'm not looking forward to that not-so-little task. But that's not what was on my mind."

"And what was?"

"Regina. Or more accurately, her spending too much time with Henry."

Snow seemed to turn inward at this. "We both know she wouldn't intentionally -"

"Right. Yeah. I agree. No... I was just thinking... what Blue said about the dangers with Regina. And with me going out of town. Even for a night."

"We can limit the time she spends with him - maybe take her back to her mansion..."

"No, that's the thing. Have you noticed him with her? I think... I mean, I know she knows you. But more... little you And she's alone, like me, here in Storybrooke."

"Oh, Emma, you're not alone-"

"I know. I know. No emotional crisis here. I just mean, everyone here is a part of two worlds. Everyone except me and Henry. And now Regina. I just think maybe having the kid around would actually be good for her. He has a way of..."

"Worming into your heart?" asked Snow with a gentle smile.

"Right... and until we get this sorted... he might be the kind of worm she'd _want_ to find in her apples, y'know?"

Snow squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "I think so."

* * *

Much to Emma's relief, when they had returned home Snow made quick work of convincing Regina to join her and some friends for a night out and David was clearly informed of the plan as he made an excuse up about catching up on some paperwork at the station, leaving her and Henry with some much needed space. The apartment clear, she sat awkwardly down next to Henry, who was reading comics. He looked up. "Am I in trouble or something?"

Emma cocked her head. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Well, obviously something's up. Why else would you have everyone leave?"

She shook her head. "Too smart kid. But no, if anyone is in trouble here, it's me."

"Why..?"

Emma sighed. Here it went. "Do you remember when I was running for Sheriff? And had to tell everyone that Gold set up that fire?" Henry nodded. "Do you know why I did that?"

"Cause you're a hero. And heroes do what's right."

Emma smiled sadly. "Right... at least I was trying to be that. For you. I screwed up when I went along with Gold, and I just had to trust you'd want me in your life, even if I wasn't entirely honest at first. Even if I couldn't be your hero... or even a sheriff. Following me so far?"

Henry nodded. "Sometimes heroes make mistakes. Knowing what the right to do isn't always easy. Like when Snow White thought she was doing the right thing by telling Cora about Regina's 's how Jiminy became a cricket, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He made a mistake, but he did his best to fix it."

Emma nodded. "But I've made _more _than a few mistakes... Henry, I never thought I was a hero. Still don't."

"But you're the-"

"Savior. Yeah, I know." She took his small, warm hands in her chilly ones. It was always like that and at some point she'd decided it was some kind of metaphor for them both. "And I wanted you to see me that way. Even when I didn't believe, I wanted to be the hero that you needed. But events before that... When I thought I couldn't be that for you, I believed I could give you one, in the image of your father. One that could never let you down." She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "The two biggest mistakes I've ever made were not believing in you, and..."

"You lied?" He asked quietly, pain crinkling the corners of his eyes. Like Bailey. "About my father?"

Emma nodded. "I would take it back if I could, Henry. _That's_ no lie_. _When you found out I was in prison when you were born - I didn't want you to think you came from a _pair_ of thieves. Bonnie and Clyde aren't good role models; even being only your kinda-mom in your life for just a month, I knew that."

Henry swallowed hard. "Did - did he know? About me?"

She sighed. "He did. It was his fault that I ended up arrested..."

"Why?"

"We were playing at an insurance scam. Burning down a building. When the heat came down, I realized he'd set it up so it looked like I acted alone. The cops were... not too smart. I mean, what 17 year old orphan owned a building? We'd just found out about you," she gave Henry a sad smile. "And he was married. He said he never wanted kids. We argued. He got me sent to prison and he ran with the money, leaving me with just a car.I didn't think he'd ever meet you, so I didn't want you to have to know that kind of thing. _And_ you thought your Mom was an Evil Queen... I just wanted to give you the Dad you deserved. Someone you could be proud you came from." She squeezed his hands. "Can you ever forgive me Henry?"

"Well... sure. But maybe I should be the one asking for forgiveness. It was kinda my fault right? If you hadn't been pregnant-"

This was not what Emma had expected, and it stung her heart. "Don't you _dare_ finish that thought, kid," she ordered with quiet intensity. "You hear me?"

Henry nodded. "But-"

"Hey! Those were _my_ bad decisions. I didn't have to do those things. And I chose the wrong guy to trust. But I wouldn't change a thing. You know why?"

Henry shrugged half-heartedly. "Because it made you. And you saved this whole town, and you saved me. In a way, I _think_ you even saved your Mom. She may have done a lot of awful things, but the Blue Fairy was right when she said that you kept a spark of good alive in her heart. And that spark of good is the woman we've gotten to know the last two days. Now, I'll ask you again. And you can say no. I know trust is a lot harder to lose than to earn back. So, can you ever forgive me?"

"I know you were just trying to protect me. So, yeah."

Emma's heart swelled. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He flashed her a small smile, but it didn't stay long. "But only if you can promise me you won't do it again..." he added timidly.

"Of _course_ Henry."

"And if you tell me what he was really like..."

"Henry..."

"I deserve to know. Not just what he did. He couldn't have been all bad. I mean, you loved him, right?" he shot back and she knew he was right. She sighed in acquiescence. "Okay... well, he was funny and charming, like you. And also had a knack for schemes... also like you," she said, shooting Henry a teasing smirk. "I thought he was like Robin Hood - breaking the law, but not just for himself. I thought we were helping foster kids like us. And to be fair, I think he did use some of it for good stuff."

"Was he a firefighter?"

"Sort of... just a volunteer type though, not full-time. He said because of that he could easily cover the arson, and make sure no one got hurt. And, well, I guess _he_ did," she laughed bitterly. "He came from the foster system like me. And that's where we met..." And so she told Henry their story. The good and the bad and she thought she was in love. How Bay worked with troubled kids - and how he used them to pull off his schemes. She left out the graphic bits, the drugs and booze, and the sex of course. But she _did_ tell him about their plan to burn down the whole place for the insurance money and how she took the full blame. How they were supposed to run off to Tallahassee, finally able to run away from his wife when they had the cash. How when things got rough he pinned it all on her and she went to prison. And then how she had to give Henry up, knowing she couldn't take care of him."

"A teen with a little yellow bug, no money, and a sealed criminal record was no life for a baby. So when a wealthy interested party said they wanted to give you a home... I had to give you your best chance. Not exactly the kind of story you find in that book of yours," she apologized.

Henry shrugged. "I get why you didn't wanna tell me now... but I'm glad you did."

"Me too."

"I _am _from a line of thieves, though."

"Just me and Bailey doesn't quite constitute a line, kid."

"But Grams does." At Emma's confused expression he let out a sigh. "You really should read the book. Snow White met Prince Charming when she was robbing his carriage."

Emma raised an eyebrow. And Henry had broken into her car more than once. Vehicular theft was apparently a family trait. She made a mental note to get a Club for her steering wheel when Henry was tall enough to reach the peddles. "Apparently so. No wonder she never batted an eyelash at all this."

"So, um... why are you telling me this now, anyway?"

"You know I owe Gold that favor? How he wants me to bring his son back here?"

Henry's eyes were suddenly a confused swirl of emotions he was probably too young to fully comprehend, and it was all Emma could do to not wrap her arms around him as a shield against anything hurting him. But she wasn't certain the thing hurting him wasn't her, so she remained frozen. After all, it was another of her bad decisions, to make a deal with Gold, that was resulting in bringing Bailey here.

"Rumplestiltskin's son is my..." Emma nodded as Henry chewed his bottom lip, processing. Finally, he met her eyes again. "Does that make me part evil?" he asked in a small voice.

And that was that, Emma's arms around him instantly. "_No_," she replied emphatically.

"But you said I was like him - and you're right. I _am _always scheming. What if I end up like him? Or worse, like Mr. Gold?"

"You do those things trying to help people." She pulled back, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Evil is made, not born, remember?"

"But the Evil Queen raised me. And I don't always do what I should - I nearly got Archie killed in the mines..."

"I said _no_. Besides... you've got Snow White and Prince Charming's blood running through you. It doesn't get any 'gooder' than that."

"Don't forget the Saviour's..."

Emma purses her lips in an uncomfortable smile. She was never going to be okay with being lionized like that, but for Henry, she didn't mind so much.

"When are you bringing him here?"

"Probably tomorrow. Assuming he comes willingly." Henry's eyes darted about nervously and she took wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He looked over, taking her draped hand into his right one. "Hey, you don't have to meet him if you don't want to, okay?"

"Okay." Henry was staring down at their hands, silent, and it felt like the longest moment of her life.

He was as conflicted as he'd ever been in his eleven years. On the one hand, he'd always wanted to meet his dad, but now it turned out he was not just not good, but the son of the Dark One. But maybe, if the Evil Queen could be reformed... maybe his father could too. He looked up. "Did he really like pumpkin pie?" he asked, finally, and a laugh thick with emotion erupted from Emma's lips.

"Yes. Yes he did."

Henry looked up and the melancholy in his face nearly broke her heart. "Well, I guess I'm glad wasn't all fake..."

"Me too kid." She wasn't sure if she meant just the pie too, or if it went further to her core. To the part of her that still believed she and Bay's love had been true once. Her's certainly had been.

* * *

**A/N:** I think I may have just dumped all the Henry/Emma feels into the stew. Hope it tasted ok ;) Next up, girl's night and the roadtrip to Baelfire.


	25. Girl's Night

**Author's Notes: **Wow, this baby didn't want to be delivered! To those who've been looking forward to this bit of fluff, I hope I didn't let you down. If the ladies seem a little looser than normal, well, they _have _had a few drinks.

**Fair warning: Some salty humor/language in here. But it's girl's night - there should be! **

**Guest Review Responses!**

**impureevil:** Wow! You (might) have no idea what that means to an author that you actually read something of this length in one sitting, but it's... well, a lot. I'd gush further, but since I can't PM you, I'll spare everyone else ;) If you have an account, I'd love to exchange a little further regarding your observations/suggestions, but also don't want to drop spoilers to a general crowd. Anywho, yes, it's a frustrating reality that when you have no beta/editor, you will find dropped words and other mistakes to the end of time when you reread your own stuff - it doesn't seem possible to catch it all. I'm happy it hasn't made it unreadable to you and the others following this :) - and thanks to you all for putting up with it, as all us fanfic readers are generally willing to do.

**Once. Too. Good. : **You _might_ just get your request fulfilled in this fic, so, y'know, hang in there.

* * *

**Chapter 25: **Girl's Night

Emma had texted David after finishing her talk with Henry, and the guy was suspiciously quick to arrive. She raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You know, you _could've_ actually _done_ the paperwork and not just hang out."

"Such accusations! You wound me." He smirked and she couldn't help but return it. Damned charming Charming.

He slapped a hand onto her shoulder. "Don't worry. Henry will be at school tomorrow. I'll have all day. But you should be warned - my only filing skills came from a curse."

"As long as you got the alphabet, I think you'll manage," replied Emma, shaking her head.

"Alphabet, hmm? Maybe I should have Henry help me. I never got far with my letters," he replied with a wink.

"Can I?" the boy's voice called from upstairs.

"Don't even think about!" Emma returned. Her gaze fell back to David. "You either," she said, lowering her voice out of Henry's earshot. Henry had the guy wrapped around his little finger.

"Of course not. Still, I wish I could come with you..." he replied softly. "To seek Gold's son."

"No, that's... it's - I'm fine!" she replied gently. Suddenly, Emma realized she couldn't help the subconscious rebellion of this guy being so... intimate with her. She didn't know what a true father would feel like, but she was sure as hell that things would be less awkward if he didn't look like some dude who would make a perfectly acceptable eHaromomy hookup. Oh, sure, she could date someone who looked like what her father's age should've been. Hell, sticking it to the stigma of being a 'gold digger' probably would've even appealed to her in her more rebellious years. But this? One word: Eeegh. She had more reasons than fingers that dealing with Mary as Mom was easier than David as Dad. _'And their names here, in the real world, start with M and D,'_ she suddenly realized. She pushed away the impulse to start deciding whether to blame Gold or Regina for that one.

"Still..."

"Yeah. I know. Really, I'll be fine. Besides, there's only two people I trust to be ready to respond if anything happens with that lizard hunt. Or a mob. Or God knows what other craziness," she offered. "And Snow-"

"Will be watching Regina. I know you say you're not worried... I know I don't know you as well as Snow yet, but... I _can_ tell _you_ are." He shrugged, almost apologetically, and Emma had to wonder if this guy - her father - had already sussed out that she didn't like being readable by just Mary had told him, or had he just figured it out. Maybe because of some trait their his family did when they were bothered by something that she was unconsciously mirroring.

"And I understand. But we _were _handling this stuff for years before you were even born, you know."

"And you spent 28 years napping and Mare teaching grade schoolers while I was chasing down perps."

"Oh, you were bounty hunting in diapers, were you?" he joked, lightening the mood.

Emma rolled her eyes."You know what I meant."

"I know. Look, just remember that we worry about you, you worry about Henry and us. That's family. But so is trust. Trust that we'll not fail you." His face and tone darkened. "Never again."

Something Emma couldn't quite identify, but what felt much like the day the curse broke and Mary Margaret accused her of not being happy for their family reunion flared in her heart. "Whoa, hey, no, of course I trust you guys. You're... we're family. Right?"

David gave her shoulder a squeeze and a smile. "Right."

Emma gave his arm a quick series of pats, like something between two teammates or soldiers, as she made her way to the coatrack. "Good talk," she chuckled. She slipped her leather jacket on and flung one last word over her shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. "Pops!"

Alone for the moment, David let his full grin shine. The word was a small gesture, but a huge one for Emma. Hopefully, one day, she wouldn't have to pull a disappearing act to say it. No, not hopefully. He had faith. It would happen.

* * *

As Emma stepped into the Storybrooke's only proper bar, "The Rabbit Hole", she immediately spied Ashley and Mary Margaret. She raised a hand to wave in greeting, but the two were too entranced by something across the room to notice her. As she made her way forward, the crowd on the dancefloor thinned and she followed their gaze to figure out _what _was so entrancing. What was weird was that she was a pretty good people reader, but she couldn't decide if they were delighted or disturbed. And then she saw it.

'_Oh.'_ They were both.

And now she was too. There, being watched by a largely perplexed, but amused crowd, were Ruby and Regina dancing. Ruby seemed to be trying to teach Regina how to dance in this world's manner, and though the result largely resembled what you'd see a gaggle of high school girls at proms doing together, they seemed to be having fun. Even the crowd seemed to have forgotten they were supposed to fear the former mayor. Ruby spun Regina, who practically squawked in laughter when she knocked into her dance partner, and they stumbled, each grappling to the other to stay upright.

Emma found her eyes still locked on the pair, wide-eyed, as she sank absent-mindedly into a chair beside Mary Margaret. "She _guffawed_!"

"I noticed that."

"_Dancing_ with _Red_!"

"I noticed that too," deadpanned Snow.

"Is she... is she wearing _glitter?!_" the blonde asked, eyes squinting through the flashing dance floor lights for a clearer look.

"Now _that_ would be Ruby's fault. Regina saw her wearing it and said it looked like fairy dust. And of course Ruby had some in her purse, so..."

"We gonna braid each other's hair next?" asked Emma wrly.

"We did that yesterday, remember?" replied Snow, elbowing her daughter in the ribs.

"Oh. Right."

"Besides, I'm not exactly equipped for the activity," added Snow, running a hand through her short hair.

Emma continued to gawk as Regina did what looked like a ballerina's pirouette. "How much has she had to drink?!"

Snow pulled her attention away from the floor and back to Emma. "Just a couple. I don't want to get her _drunk._"

"Just relaxed," added Ashley.

Emma nodded and flagged down a waitress. "Scotch and soda. Whatever your well is, is fine."

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?" asked Snow.

This finally fully pulled Emma's eyes from the dance floor. "I _am_." Snow raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Really Mare. I just need to get out of my head for a bit. This isn't exactly a pleasure cruise I'm embarking on tomorrow."

That got the sympathy back and she leaned closer to her daughter. Luckily, the noise of the DJ kept the conversation private. "I take it the talk with Henry went okay?"

Emma nodded as her drink arrived. "Better than could be expected. Not that that's saying much." She took a sip, relishing the distraction of the burn. "But he doesn't hate me." A pause. "Or himself." She took another swig.

"Himself?!"

Emma sighed. "He thought that... with Gold as his grandfather..." Emma's nose scrunched up in distaste at the concept, which Snow couldn't blame her for. "And his dad being... well, I left the worst details out, but suffice it to say, no _Prince Charming_," she said with a snerk. Snow acknowledged the joke with lopsided smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He was afraid he might be... tainted I guess."

"That's ridiculous!"

"That's what I told him. Well, I told him there was no such thing. But if there was - he came from way too many good guys for it to matter, even though it didn't."

Snow nodded in approval, and sensing Emma didn't want to delve any further - she did say she came here to relax - simply turned her eyes back to the floor and bumped her shoulder into Emma's. "Hey - check out the brave soul," she remarked with a smirk.

Glad to be off the subject, Emma followed the direction of Mary's nod and saw she was right. Out of the crowd surrounding Red and Regina stepped a rather ordinary guy, approaching the pair. It took a few moments before she recognized him as the mechanic who, looking back, must have been an accomplice to Ruby as she covered Ashley's getaway. Billy, she thought his name was. Dressed in a shiny yellow silk shirt, he rather reeked of early 90's club style, or so Emma saw it as anyway. But then, Storybrooke had always seemed to be in a weird mish-mash of a timewarp, even before she knew the curse was real.

As soon as he'd gotten a few steps out a lithe guy named Jack, another from Tillman's auto shop, was trying to pull him back in. Probably away from the danger, but Billy simply swatted him off, and then dragged them both towards the 'dangerous' women. They were soon both awkwardly attempting to join Regina and Red's haphazard dance, to everyone's surprise - except one, it seemed.

Ashley giggled, quite princess like, behind a cocktail napkin, causing Emma to raise an eyebrow. "Am I missing something?"

Ashley shrugged. "I suppose it's a bit of an inside joke. But they were some of my closest friends back home - especially before I got my happy ending."

Snow gave her a quizzical look.

Emma's was more insistent. "And...?"

"Well, Gus always let his heart lead his head - Jack, the very opposite. It seems some things never change!" she chuckled. "I suppose their elevation up the food chain has made the curse not so... cursish."

Snow slapped the table as if she'd just hit blackjack in Vegas. "Ella! You're telling me?"

Ashley laughed and nodded. "Yeah! They came to see Alexandra just the other day. Crazy, right?"

Snow wore a wide smile and shook her head. "No doubt! Good for them though!"

"I think so."

"Okay. Lost earthling here. Who are they supposed to be?" asked Emma. She'd seen Cinderella, and knew Ashley was, well, preferred to be called Ella. But Disney and skimming Henry's book was as close as she got to fairy tale literacy. And all she could remember was some fairies, some birds and some mice, her prince - Sean obviously - and a pumpkin. She was pretty sure Billy hadn't been a pumpkin, and clearly wasn't the prince, so... she was drawing a blank.

"They were friends of mine. Gus and Jack and... well, I had lots of forest friends," replied Ashley.

Snow leaned in a bit. "They were mice. Quite brave for their kind though, helping us keep an eye on Rumplestiltskin."

"Uh huh." Emma nodded slowly, doing her best to nonchalant the weird, even as a vague memory of cartoon Gus bubbled in the back of her brain. "So, like you said, great evolutionary upgrade for 'em, right?"

"Indeed," replied Snow, just before her eyes saucered and her face crumpled. "Are they?"

Emma rubbed her palm tiredly over her eyes. "Really?!"

Ashley nearly cackled. "They are!"

When she'd arrived, the sound had been overwhelming, and the spectacle, certainly intimidating. The lights, the strange odors, and the cacophony of people and music was alien and intense. Certainly not like any ball she'd been to before. But then, her mother despised anything passionate in life, so that wasn't so surprising. But, as Regina settled in, and she became used to the spectacle around her, she realized that it wasn't so unlike the one night Daniel had been able to smuggle her away to a village festival. Certainly, the thumping beats of the music reminded her of the rollicking peasant music that seemed to come in tune with her own heartbeat - especially when they danced.

It wasn't the stale, predictable dances that may have been like any courtly ritual. There was an energy that reminded her of the energy of magic - but without the awfulness that followed her mother. This place, this "Rabbit's Hole", had that crackle, but without all the darkness. Following the two surprisingly tasty drinks and the resulting warm, giddly tingle that she usually had to repress at any royal functions, she was more than happy to follow Ruby out to teach her to dance in this new realm.

The dancers she'd observed so far seemed to simply fling themselves to-and-fro, letting the rhythm take them where it would, and strangely, was far more intimidating for Regina than simply following a rote dance step that she didn't know. But she'd improvised in the gypsy way with Daniel once. She figured she could do it again - and really, felt like she needed to get some kind of dark, nervous energy out of her. Strangely, in the back of her mind, she knew that her other self hadn't danced since Daniel died. At least, nothing but what her social position demanded, and certainly not with any feeling. She let this push her into some kind of abandon. Like she wanted to forget - even if she didn't remember what she was trying to forget. She'd have felt crazy if she had let herself reflect. But she wasn't letting herself do that for now. In this moment she was spinning, bouncing, and enjoying this somewhat unfamiliar body, ignoring the occasional twinges from long unused muscles. And enjoying the company of friends. Maybe it was too soon to call them that, but it's what it felt like as she fell against Ruby and a raucous laugh escaped her lips. A laugh shared. It had been years since she'd shared one with anyone but her father or Daniel; or in the last couple days (by her memory) the young Snow. She stole a glance at the grown version and saw the woman's quizzical amusement - and then meeting gazes, an encouraging smile, before she turned to Emma. When had Emma arrived? She shrugged it off, it didn't matter. The more, the merrier.

She knew she was making something of a spectacle of herself, and the empty space around herself and Ruby confirmed it, so she was surprised when two young men approached. One certainly seemed more enthusiastic than the other, but soon both had joined in their revelry. Ruby tugged her close, her lips on Regina's ears. "Hands off the guy in yellow. He's mine." Regina blanched for a moment, but when Ruby drew away she saw the woman's devilish grin and realized it was a deal struck - not a threat - and returned the smile. In reality, of course, she couldn't conceive of anyone filling her heart but Daniel, so the point was moot, but she nodded anyway.

To her surprise, the other man, a slip of a guy, actually approached Regina. He was quite tall, nearly a head higher in fact, and wore a similarly shiny tunic as Ruby's man, only red, and topped by a red blazer that reached nearly to his knees. As he leaned farther in, presumably to introduce himself, she absently wondered why Ruby didn't prefer this man. They obviously shared a passion for the same color, at least.

"I'm Jack!" he practically shouted to be heard over the din.

"Regina," she returned, extending her hand, palm down as her etiquette required. He looked at it, dumbfounded for a moment before enveloping it in his hand and shaking her hand up and down roughly. She couldn't help the slight curl of her lip in distaste. Clearly a custom of this realm, she quickly wiped the expression from her face, but she couldn't say she liked it. A chaste hold and kiss on the back of her hand was simply more gentlemanly.

"I know," was his only reply as he looked at her with a wary bravado, and she supposed she should have realized this. It seemed everyone knew her, and it wasn't a good thing. She offered him a smile. Whatever her mother had made this town think of her, she was grateful that this man was at least willing to be pleasant. He returned the smile and began to gyrate in the fashion of this land and she did her best to do the same. He was certainly no Daniel, and the thought of his loss stung badly every time, but he wouldn't have minded. He was never the jealous type, as he'd shown when they'd danced with the gypsies at the festival, so he wouldn't mind. Besides, she certainly wasn't interested in this Jack fellow.

Regina's eyes wandered over to her partner in this little adventure, Ruby - and promptly widened in shock as the flirty looks between Ruby and the rather swarthy fellow turned into touching, and finally, Ruby practically rubbing her rear into his crotch. She glanced around, then back to the table where Snow, Emma, and that blonde girl were seated, looking for acknowledgment of the improper, brothelesque behavior. But even Snow didn't bat an eye at it. If the woman who had been such a doe-eyed little girl wasn't shocked, then clearly this sexual grinding dance was normal. She shook her head. There was freedom... and then there was lurid abandon. She certainly wasn't going to behave in such a manner.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to see Jack looking at her questioningly. Oh, right, she must have stopped dancing. She shrugged him off, giving a acknowledging smile and resumed. To her horror, despite his initially standoffish dancing, he seemed to have taken her reaction as an invitation, and moved closer. Thankfully, he wasn't trying to grind on her, as she now saw the yellow-clad man returning the favor to Ruby, but the occasional brush of a hand down her arm, or even across her _hip_, was plenty alarming enough. She looked desperately to her table of friends - if she could be so bold to call them - and saw them smirking at her. She was clearly... freaking out, was it Henry said? And they had the gall to laugh?!

She felt herself smolder for a second, but immediately painted that smile back on her face. _A lady is polite. A lady never refuses an invitation to dance._ Her parent's voices echoed in her head. She set her jaw. She wasn't about to be completely rude to a man simply dancing like this land is accustomed, and if so, she wasn't going to let them see her squirm. Even if the idea of this vulgar dancing somehow seemed like something Daniel _wouldn't _have wanted. Or, at least, wouldn't have liked to see. Now, engage in it with her on the other hand... maybe on Firefly Hill. She let the thought travel to her mouth and fill in her mask of a smile.

Emma bit back a laugh, trying, and utterly failing to look sympathetic at Regina's plight. She could see Snow and Ashley failing just as miserably. "Pretty ballsy for a mouse - flirting with the Evil Queen, huh?"

Ashley smirked mischievously. "Well... mice do have some pretty big... you know, coin purses. For their size."

Snow let out a blurt of a laugh as Emma's eyes widened. "Seriously? A dick joke from a princess?!"

"Hey! I'm also a working class teenaged mother," she replied.

"And a fabulous one," replied Snow warmly. She then turned her attention back to Gus and Jack and raised an eyebrow. "So, do you think they got to keep that not-so-little feature when they were cursed?"

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Emma. "That's not even the part that you'd want to be -" She shook her head, clamping her mouth shut.

"Probably why Ruby likes Gus so much," snerked Ashley, secretly enjoyng making the Sheriff squirm.

"_Wolf's_ appetite!" both princesses exclaimed in unison and laughed loudly. It was clear to Emma this was some kind of inside joke. Snow was no Mary Margaret, that was for sure. She shook her head, and turned her attention back to the dance floor, trying not to think about the too-much-informativeness about Ruby of the joke. That's when she noticed the dark look in Regina's eyes.

It wasn't quite the Madam Mayor, but Emma had spent enough time sparring with the woman to recognize that well-practiced, determined, fake smile on her face. Apparently, she wasn't happy with the former mouse's advances. Why she didn't just walk away was beyond Emma, but clearly she needed a little rescuing. She nudged Snow and nodded to the scene, just as Regina gave them a hard glance. Okay, so maybe it wasn't just Jack she was unhappy with.

Apparently, Snow was just as adept at reading Regina, because she simply let out a quite "Uh-oh." The former princess couldn't help the instinctual lurch in her stomach at the look in Regina's eyes. She'd seen it followed by so many bad consequences before, it was Pavlovian for her. Still, she pushed the knee-jerk reaction down. This wasn't the Evil Queen. It was a girl who had just lost her true love, lost in a foreign land. "She needs rescuing," she thought out loud.

"Uh, yeah, I'd say so. Looks how handsy he's getting," replied Emma.

And it was true. Clearly Regina was too stubborn, or perhaps too polite, Snow realized, to truly fend the guy off, even as he made a move for her waist. "A lady doesn't refuse a dance," replied Snow.

"Huh?"

"It's true," offered Ashley, realization dawning. "But then, that means from anyone, right? Like, you, with me, at my wedding, Snow."

Snow nodded, seeing where she was going with this. She nudged Emma back. "You've gotta go pull her away."

The blonde scoffed. "Why can't Ruby do it? She's already out there!"

Snow leveled her gaze at her best friend's dancing, and grinding, form. "She looks a little... indisposed at the moment."

Emma sighed in frustration. "Look. I don't do dancing."

A slow smile crept across Snow's face. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"What?! No! I just don't wanna!"

"You're lying. You're_ totally _scared."

"That's _my _superpower, not your's."

"I'm your mother."

"_Yeah_. Who's known me for, like, eight months," scoffed Emma.

Snow smirked. "And you hitch your eyebrow exactly like David whenever he's lying."

Emma fought a blush coming up from this acknowledgment of their status as family and sighed again. "Okay, fine. But... I'm not exactly a great dancer. And... I don't like making a spectacle of myself."

Snow's heart hurt just a bit at this. Yet another side effect of having abandoned her daughter. Not just not knowing the steps to courtly dances she should have known grown up with, but the lack of confidence to simply say 'to hell with what people think'. Emma put up a good show, but she was incredibly vulnerable inside, and if it wasn't something she could fight, she avoided it. Like dancing. Of course, she was also a sucker for proving people wrong. And Snow was going to right this one wrong done to her daughter. Tonight.

The brunette nodded. "Right. You're scared." She shrugged nonchalantly. "That's okay. But you're coming with me."

"What? Take Ashley."

Ashley cringed apologetically. "I... kinda twisted my ankle trying to hang curtains in the nursery today. Otherwise, I would have totally been out there already!"

"Seriously? Don't you have a maid for that now? _Ugh_, whatever, nevermind." A sudden idea sprung to the reluctant blonde's mind. "So, I should totally be keeping you company! No fair to leave you all alone. Out of the... fun."

"Nah. I'm okay. Besides, it looks like Jack has decided to go for the gold." The tall man, seemingly trying to entice Regina into something more flirtatious, was now hunched, his butt shaking at Regina, and the poor woman blushing furiously. "And that's a little more urgent."

"Right," replied Snow, grabbing her daughter's hand,

Emma looked alarmed but stood anyway. "Uh, look, seriously- Mare-"

"Hey, it'll only be a few minutes. Unless you're too scared.."

Emma let out a frustrated, but resigned, groan. "Fine. But don't think for a second I don't know what you're doing here. You should leave the reverse psychology to Archie."

Snow smirked. "As long as you do it."

"Mary Margaret would never have done it."

"And do you wanna be more like Mary Margaret or like me?"

"... you," Emma hesitantly admitted, and Snow's heart soared.

But, knowing that would make her daughter just that much more uncomfortable she did her best to save the feeling for later and nodded. "Great. So, I'll give Regina an excuse to beg off Jack and you keep him busy until I get him off the dance floor."

"Why do I have to be the one to-"

"Because everyone knows I'm married."

"Fine," grumbled Emma. She shrugged her shoulders back and pulled herself into bail bondsperson mode. She'd flirted with people far worse than a mouseman named Jack to do her job. Granted, she tended to avoid a dinner and dancing date, but it wasn't like she hadn't ever done it before. She glanced over at Snow, who seemed to pull up her own little regal stance as she prepared to make her move, and again, Emma was struck by how much this was _not_ the same woman she'd known for months. Sure, the clothes had changed immediately, but a makeover is different than a new personality.

Emma watched as Snow put on a broad smile and Emma mirrored with her own, directed at Regina and Jack respectively. Emma took a deep breath and sidled up to her mark, 'accidentally' brushing her hips against the side of his as she awkwardly made hand motions to the beat. Jack seemed to respond rather eagerly, easily letting Snow 'cut in' and save Regina. Emma had to guess it was because she was the Savior, and thus, a rather preferable upgrade from an amnesiac Evil Queen. Still, turns out he was indeed pretty handsy, and since he wasn't scared of Emma, even handsier than he'd been with the former mayor. Regina was pretty quickly at the table, but rather than follow her, Snow turned her attentions to Emma and Jack - and to Emma's amazement, rather masterfully pried her from the overgrown rodent's grasp with a few nudges from her own hips and then pulling some other woman in to dance with him. As the song switched, Ruby seemed ready for a rest and followed the pair.

The younger woman suppressed a chuckle as they neared their table. "Hey, Emma, no offense but are you sure your hands are even aware of what everything below the waist is doing?"

Emma crossed her arms. "I _said_ I can't dance."

Snow patted Emma on the shoulder. "Don't listen to that one. She left my toes black and blue after several dance lessons for her first royal ball. Besides, I think Emma was just doing the 'hand jive'."

"Uh, yeah, let's go with that," replied the blonde. Snow gave Emma a wink as she took a seat next to Regina.

"You saved me," remarked Regina gratefully before her eyes narrowed slightly at the mother-daughter pair. "Why?"

Snow shook her head. "What would you have said if I'd asked that when you saved me?"

"That it was the right thing to do." Her eyes filled with gentle confusion. "Sorry, I just am not used to anyone coming to _my_ rescue. Well, except Daniel."

"Right, well, I suppose they don't call me the Savior for nothing," shrugging.

"Yeah, so get used to it," smirked Snow.

Regina was grateful for the distraction when her drink arrived and she could quickly sip from it. Emma eyed the martini glass filled with a green substance and leaned over to sniff it when Regina had put it back down. Her nose scrunched as she raised an eyebrow at the brunette. "An appletini? Seriously?"

"It sounded delicious!" replied Regina defensively. "And I shall not defend my choice from someone whose _mother_ was in diapers whilst I was already winning my first riding competitions."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I suppose great-grandmothers are supposed to be respected, right?" Snow's eyes turned into saucers and Emma immediately realized her mistake. "Cause, technically, that would make you a great-grandmother's age," she added awkwardly.

Regina raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Snow, and apparently Emma, both had terrible poker faces. Regina's own face dropped. "So... it's true then." She didn't know if it was the liquor dulling her senses, or simply she was getting better control, but whatever magic was trapped inside her, instead was a simple tingle in her hands. Purple energy danced along her fingertips, giving her green drink an unearthly glow.

She felt a hand on her arm give a sympathetic squeeze and looked up, following it to it's owner. "Shouldn't I be the one there to comfort you, dear? I mean, if I was your..." she swallowed and Snow smiled sympathetically.

"Yes, well, _technically _I have more life experience at the moment, so I think I'm within my bounds. Besides, children always take care of when they're older, right?" she teased, trying to cut the tension.

"And you're not scared of this?" asked Regina, holding up her glowing hand.

"It gives me pause... but I trust you won't try and harm anyone on purpose."

"But _that's_ what it's for. My mother taught me that much. So surely you mean you trust _me _with it. Not the other me." As Snow opened her mouth to reply, Regina interrupted while eying her now empty glass. "They don't make these in red, do they? I think I'll go find out." She was up and retreating off to the bar in a flash.

Snow exchanged a look with Emma, but the blonde stayed her mother with a hand. "It's my fault... I should handle it."

"But you don't know her like I do."

"That might be better. Besides, I'm the one who screwed up. Let me fix it."

"She's right, Snow." added Ruby. "I know what it's like to suddenly find out your whole past wasn't anything you thought." She thought back to her reunion with her mother that seemed a lifetime ago. She supposed it had been. "So does Emma."

"But," argued Snow. "I know you're not exactly one for... and don't take this the wrong way, but big feelings _and _talking, Emma."

Emma shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's probably a good thing. You know we can't have her getting all worked up and she's already all glowy E.T. fingers." Her face set in a way that Snow knew all too well. There wasn't any point in arguing. Emma nodded, knowing she'd won and took off after Regina, throwing a quick "Wish me luck," over her shoulder with false bravado.

Regina sat at a bar stool and sighed, stirring her drink with a small 'sword' made of a material Henry had called plastic. It was the first sword she'd seen in days, and she was fighting the urge to snap it in two for mocking her home realm. A silly little toy version of something so deadly, now being used to impale fruit. She knew she was pouting in some sense, but she felt justified. She was both completely innocent of any crimes, yet, she must have done some horrible things.

After all, if she'd become Leopold's queen, she'd played Snow's mother for some time. She recalled what Snow had said yesterday. _"Father... he... I lost him a long time ago. When I wasn't much younger than you." … "I was exiled not long after."... "I haven't seen Cora since I was 14..." _

And then there was the matter of what had cursed the realm to this town and frozen time._ "It wasn't your mother, but... something... someone she created."... "The Evil Queen."_

If the King died, that left Regina as Queen, which was quite a queer thought; her as Queen alone. But Snow was exiled not long after. Clearly she had failed as a Queen the minute the Princess had been endangered. Had she lost the kingdom entirely? Had her mother finally turned into an evil beast and Snow saying she hadn't seen Cora in decades simply been the woman's way of dodging the truth to spare Regina's feelings? If Snow truly knew her so well, she'd know that despite it all, Regina couldn't help loving her mother in some matter what. But why would everyone hate her, unless she'd stayed by her mothers side as some kind of right hand. She wouldn't put it past her mother to force her into such an existence. Her heart dropped and suddenly a swirl of visions flashed in her head.

_Cora atop a throne, clad in the gaudiest red finery, smiling evilly._

_Herself reuniting with her father as she rescued him from her mother's clutches._

_A woman's dark voice declaring that their happy endings would be gone with the curse as a weeping, disheveled Snow wept over David's prone body._

_Another, younger but grown Snow, crying and taking comfort in Regina's arms at the King's sarcophagus._

A hand on her arm suddenly snapped her out of the rising tide, so much like her blow up the previous day, and the magical energy dissipated. The hand suddenly snapped back, as if burned.

"Whoa! What the hell was that?!" exclaimed Emma. To the Sheriff it was like a static shock, except seemed to be absorbed into skin, tingling for a second along her nerve endings. It was gone almost instantaneously.

Regina turned to see the blonde standing by her side, looking more surprised than alarmed. As their eyes met, Emma's softened into worry. "Hey, you okay?"

Regina blinked, amazed that she didn't feel the same panic and racing heartbeat she had after nearly killing Snow and Emma the previous day. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... something just triggered some memories, I think. Visions maybe." She rubbed her hand over her heart absently. _That_ still burned with dark energy.

Emma took a seat next to her at the bar. "That's what I was concerned about. Hope you don't mind the intrusion."

"Considering what almost just occurred? No."

The blonde nodded. "Don't blame ya." She shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, listen, I just wanted to apologize for the little info drop back there. I know you were having issues with it all already - and it's dangerous with your magic." She murmured the last. "It just kinda slipped out. Me and my tongue aren't always on the same page..."

"It's... alright. I just needed a moment to compose myself. Truth be told, the question has been haunting me since Snow mentioned the curse, and that my mother hasn't been seen for years."

"I get it. It hasn't exactly been a bed of roses for me lately, either. Revelations are bitch, y'know?"

"You _really_ didn't grow up a princess, did you?" Regina commented wryly at the woman's saucy language.

Emma chuckled. "I thought we covered that. At least, you and Mare did."

Regina's face dropped. "Yes... my deepest apologies for that."

Emma's eyes widened. "Just what did you see in these... visions?" The brunette didn't seem like she remembered everything - but Blue had made it quite clear that Regina having any sudden revelations about what she'd really truly become could be quite dangerous for everyone.

"Just a jumble of things that seem to confirm what I was piecing together. That I failed as a Queen... as a mother to Snow, since she was exiled. Some things about my mother as some kind of 'Evil Queen'. People in this town feared me, just as you said yesterday. Surely, I wasn't exiled _with_ Snow, as I heard the 'Evil Queen' taunt Snow about the curse as it was enacted. And I just watched."

"Just_ heard _her?" asked Emma warily.

"These visions aren't exactly like your television," she snapped, but immediately sighed. "Sorry, I know you're just trying to keep the town, me, safe."

"It's alright."

"How can you say that so readily?" asked Regina, genuinely bemused. "I know that one way or another I've had a hand in your suffering."

Emma shrugged. "We all make mistakes. God knows I've made more than my fair share. But what's important is what you do after them. To fix it, learn from it, whatever."

"Henry's lucky to have you." Emma looked at her and blinked. She never thought she'd hear _that_ from Regina. "Not that I ever believed her, but _my _mother made it very clear that a mistake is a worthless thing that there's no coming back from. Something that you can _never redeem_ any good from."

"Makes it sound like an expired coupon... anyway. I have to believe in redemption. If I didn't, I couldn't believe in me. Everyone should get another chance, if they want one."

"Yeah." Regina licked her lips. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't think I am up to dwelling on this right now. Especially after what just almost happened."

Emma nodded. "Don't have to tell me twice." A long pause followed before Emma turned back to Regina. "Still, the night's just getting started, right? So let's change this to a happier topic."

Regina smirked at the graceless seque. "Like what?"

"Boys?"

Regina hunched into herself a bit, a piece of body language she'd never seen from Madam Mayor. Then again, they'd never had a conversation this personal. "I don't know..."

Emma suddenly realized why the brunette was so uncomfortable. Could Daniel have been the first guy in her life? She wasn't about to pry, but talking could be good for her. She'd clearly never been given the chance to move on after him dying the first time, being married to a man old enough to be her father. And against her will. "Hey, y'know Mare, er, Snow, told me once that the best thing you can do when you lose someone you love is to remember the good times. There's a saying here, it's better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all."

Regina chuckled darkly. "Doesn't feel like it."

"I didn't think so either, but when I lost someone... I thought I could love him..." Graham's death still haunted her but the ache was gone. He'd said he remembered, and then died, and after the curse broke, she realized it had to be wrapped up in the curse somehow. She pushed aside the anger for _that_ Regina, knowing she couldn't blame the one sitting right in front of her and continued. "Anyway, it felt so unfair."

"Unbearable is more like it..." interjected Regina. "If I hadn't loved him..."

"But _that's_ what makes it bearable." Emma shrugged when Regina looked confused. "I didn't get it at first, but when Mary Margaret was Snow again... she's seen a lot of loss. And she told me that it was her love for them, when the people she lost died... she knew they'd been truly loved. And that means they were happy. So, it's our job to be happy for them."

Regina blanched in puzzlement. "That they're dead?!"

"No. No... happy that they were loved when they died. They had _that_. They weren't sad. Not truly. And it's our job to not think of them as sad. That's when I got it, because I spent 28 years thinking I wasn't truly loved by anyone. And then I found my family... I'd like them to remember the good stuff, and I'd go knowing the rest of it was worthwhile for it."

Regina nodded silently as tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

"So... I don't know much about your true love, but I'd like to hear more about Daniel. If you're up to it. I mean, he had to have been a hell of a brave guy to risk your mother's wrath, right?" She gave Regina a small smile.

"Oh, he was. Braver than most, including me. But not arrogant or even brash. He was brave of heart. He was gentle; it's what makes - made - him so wonderful with horses. He loved deeply."

She saw a twinkle she'd never seen for anyone but Henry in Regina's eyes and Emma took the opportunity to shift the conversation to a lighter mood. "Bet he was looker too, huh?"

Regina laughed. "Oh, Gods yes! If he weren't so true of heart I have no doubt one of the house maids would have stolen him right up from under me, the way they chased him!"

"Rugged or like, pretty type?" She was pretty sure she already knew, but she didn't need to imply that Regina's older self had moved on to a loveless sex life when she was still freshly mourning.

"Pretty?! Well... his eyes, maybe. They were the most brilliant shade of amber. And to see them twinkle in the light of the fireflies in our favorite spot... only true love could be the stronger magic," she gushed and Emma felt like she must be hallucinating at the sight as the brunette blushed. "But he worked with his hands, mucking out stalls. Taming horses. So, mostly ruggedly handsome."

"Yeah. I like 'em that way too."

"Oh? So, fair is fair. Tell me of someone special to you."

Emma smirked, despite her discomfort at the question. She certainly wasn't going to tell about Bay when he'd be in town soon, and after that, her love life had been meaningless flings... and then Graham, which hadn't really even started. "Hey, how about we head back to the group and we can have a good old fashioned guy gabfest?"

Regina thought a moment. "Yes. I think I would be pleasantly distracted by that."

'_Mission accomplished Swan! Maybe the whole talking thing is rubbing off on me from Mare.'_

That the group of women had been waiting was both annoying to Regina, but also felt... good somehow. She'd never had friends who did that... well, she'd never had friends who were allowed to do that. Servants had to keep busy or risk Cora's wrath. And the daughters of royals that she occasionally visited were always catty. Snow had been the first princess she met that was willing to put her wishes aside for someone she'd just met. At the time, Snow had been a child and Regina had written it off as something born of naivete. But here was the _woman _Snow, still doing the same thing. Maybe she'd done something right as the girl's stepmother, maintaining that?

Emma slid in next to Regina. "So... we were just talking.. boy talk..." The term was still a little funny for her. Even as a teen she hadn't much of any real friends, moving around, and had gotten her GED early. at 16, in order to escape the system. Gossip wasn't part of her teenage experience. Really, Mary Margaret had been the one to introduce her to it, but she knew it was a decent distraction. She sipped her drink. "So, Ruby. Any close encounters of the _sensual _kind you wanna spill?"

Regina didn't miss that Emma had immediately passed the topic away from herself, and wondered why the blonde didn't want to talk about this fellow from her past after everything she'd just gotten done telling Regina.

Ruby chuckled. "A few..." Emma and Snow both raised mirrored skeptical eyebrows. "Hey! Ruby was mostly talk and show - I was a good girl... mostly." She couldn't help the devilish grin on her lips.

"Well how about you settle a bet?" asked Ashley. "I've seen how you look at Gus Gus..."

Ruby blinked before remembering the conversation she'd had with her dance partner earlier that week. The mouse thing. "_Oh_! Billy! What about him?"

"Well..." began Snow, who seemed to be fighting a blush, despite the cavalier nature with which they'd discussed it earlier.

Ashley seemed to be suffering a similar state of sudden-onset-of-princess syndrome as she giggled demurely. "Well, you know he was a mouse... and you see _guy_ mice..."

At least _that _girl was only 20, considered Emma but she still rolled her eyes. "Oh, fer - they wanna know what's going on at the guy's deli counter!" she exclaimed. At Ruby's confused expression, she leaned forward. "You know, what kind of meat he's packing..."

To the blonde's utter surprise, Ruby too blushed now. Maybe she wasn't kidding when she said she was a 'good girl'. Suddenly, any further contemplation was cut short by a burst of loud laughter; from Regina, of all people. The brunette shook her head, her hands now over her mouth in embarrassment at the kind of outburst that would've earned a smack from her mother. "I"m sorry, I just realized what Emma was saying!" She fought to put her grin away. "And, and, you're all _princesses_ of the _realm_! This is - this is _not_ proper dinner conversation!" she remarked, trying to force a scandalized tone into her voice.

"I don't see any food here, do you, Gina?" laughed Ruby, happy to push the title of prude off herself, on to another. After all, she had a certain badass reputation to maintain. That's when she noticed Regina look at her strangely, as if not sure how to respond. "Oh, was it the Gina thing? If you don't like being called that-" she began to apologize, suddenly remembering this was the Mayor. The former Evil Queen. She had a temper.

Regina shook her head. "No... it's just that Daniel is the only one who ever called me that." She felt Snow's hand land on her own.

"I'm-"

"No, it's okay," replied Regina, cutting the woman off and a small smile painted her lips. "I like it. It's okay. My mother always insisted it was a vulgar, unrefined nickname." She shrugged. "I never understood that. But I think, if my mother isn't here, you may call me whatever you wish." She smiled. The idea was freeing somehow.

Snow smiled warmly. "Well, then we _shall_. I think it suits the current you are now quite well." There was a nod of agreement around the table, and while none spoke of it, there seemed to an understanding that this was 'Gina' in their small hamlet now, and not 'Regina'.

Ruby smirked. "So, this Daniel of yours - he have any _other_ nicknames for you?" she pretended to leer at Gina.

Gina looked at her flatly. "Why, I do believe you're trying to get out of discussing a certain boy's sausage, Miss Ruby." She laughed at the scowl Ruby sent her way in response.

"Fine..." Ruby grumbled in false frustration.

"It's_ just _fine?" asked Snow, earning another laugh from the table at Ruby's eyeroll.

* * *

The talk continued for some time, mostly girlish in their subject matter, though a few topics broached R-rated material, until Emma finally noticed the time and stood up. "Well, I think I've reached my limit of 'Sex and the City' moments tonight. I'm not exactly a..." she frowned, trying to remember the names she'd heard people throw around. The show really wasn't her cup of tea. "Miranda, or whatever. Anyway, I'll be heading out early, so I need my rest if I'm gonna be 'Thelma and Louise'-ing with August tommorrow."

"Do you watch _any_ chick flicks? Or are you meaning to imply you're gonna drive off a cliff on your road trip?" asked Ruby.

Emma shrugged her coat on. "With Bay in tow? Not such a bad idea..."

"Emma..." replied Snow. She couldn't help scolding her daughter implying she'd hurt herself.

"Relax, Mare. Don't be such a- well, you know." She winked, indicating she wasn't truly upset, though a certain lace of irritation with being cuckolded _was_ there. "Good night, ladies."

At the blonde's departure the conversation continued for another 20 minutes before, Ashley slowly pulled herself to her feet. "Hey, can I get a hand going to the bathroom? The bum ankle and all?"

"Sure," said Ruby, and the two headed to the restroom, leaving Snow and Gina alone at the table.

Gina sighed as she watched the hobble away.

"They'll be right back," remarked Snow.

"_Oh_, I didn't mean to imply you're not good company."

Snow was surprised at how the statement warmed her heart. She'd never wanted to admit over the years how much Regina's rejection had hurt her as a girl, or that some part of her wanted that approval still. "You're all quite wonderful company, actually. I was just realizing how much my mother has taken from me over the years. I've never had... easy friendships."

"Well, perhaps you do now."

Regina shrugged. She knew she was persona-non-grata in this town. The idea of friends seemed unlikely, at best. "I wouldn't even know how to begin. How did you...?" She recalled her conversation with little Snow about their shared difficulties in making true friends as a royal.

"I won't lie. It hasn't always been easy. I've been lonely most of my life."

"But these women would go to the ends of the realms for you. I can tell. And you the same. How did you find _that_?"

Snow bit her lip, thinking. "You hold on tight to the good ones, I guess, and just let the rest fall away," replied Snow with a reassuring smile.

"You make it sound so simple."

Snow laughed. "Oh, I'm not saying there hasn't been hurt along the way. And it takes time to find the good ones out there. But hurt comes with keeping your heart open to people." She said the last in a quiet tone and Snow hoped Gina hadn't realized that she was mostly talking about _Re_gina.

"I betrayed you."

No such luck. Snow sighed. "Yes." _'But I betrayed your trust first,'_ she thought.

"Then I'm truly sorry, Snow," Gina said genuinely.

Snow shook her head. "No, I'm not entirely innocent in this. I can't explain, but you shouldn't apologize when you don't know what you're apologizing for."

"I know I was supposed to take care of you. And at some point I didn't. I may not know why, but I _was_ the adult there... maybe not in this realm." She chuckled darkly at the role reversal. "But I _was _then, and that means I was supposed to be the bigger person." _'I should have let her die on that horse.' _Gina heard the voice in her head, as cold gripped her heart, and she could feel what she'd felt when she said that. And it disturbed her. She clenched her hands under the table as the prickle of magic danced along her fingertips.

Snow smiled gratefully at the gesture, suddenly appearing much younger. "Thank you, Gina."

Regina returned the smile, though her's was a bit melancholy, and nodded. "Listen, I think I'm going to go get some fresh air." As Snow made as if to grab her own coat, Regina waved her off. "I'll be fine. I promise. It's just for few minutes."

Snow looked skeptical, but finally nodded in acquiescence. "You scream if there's any trouble."

"Yeah, don't think I'll have trouble remembering that," she chuckled. With that, she turned on her heel and weaved her way through the jostling, jovial bodies toward the front door.

She relished the crisp fall air, simply watching her breath float along the wind until she realized Emma's bright yellow car was still parked at the curb. Leaning down, she saw the blonde, forehead planted on the steering wheel. She took a step closer and rapped her knuckles on the windshield. Emma started, startling them both as her face honked the horn loudly when she jumped. Regina's hand was over her heart, it racing at the loud noise, and Emma was huffing as she rolled down her window. "Jesus, Regina!" she cried. "You trying to kill me?!" For once, the question didn't have any genuine belief behind it. She blinked. "What are you doing out here alone?"

"I was simply getting some fresh air. And I saw you - I was just making sure you were okay." She paused. "Is that a crime, Sheriff?"

She sounded much like her old self in that moment and Emma sighed, pushing down the urge to make a smartass remark back. "Of course not."

"So.. are you okay?" asked the brunette, stuffing her hands deeply into her coat pockets.

Realizing the girl was just trying to be nice before, Emma sighed and patted the passenger seat. "C'mon in, Gina."

When the brunette was seated she cocked her head at Emma. "I thought you were going home to sleep?"

"I am. Or, was. I just needed some... space before I went back to the boys. I'm not exactly big into the social thing - it can exhausting frankly."

"I found it invigorating."

"Then why are you outside?"

Regina shrugged. "I suppose... I needed a little space as well. And air - it's quite warm and a little stuffy in there."

"Old heater, probably. They always smell musty," remarked Emma. She'd lived in enough flophouses to recognize the odor.

"I thought you were tired of small talk for the day?" teased Regina.

"I am," replied Emma, staring at her dashboard. Holding her walls down was still a chore, and she was tired of heavy emotional lifting for the day. "Especially with what I have to face tomorrow."

"I've gathered he wasn't a good man?" Emma shook her head. "Right. Well, clearly Henry takes after you then."

Emma finally met her eyes at this."You know?!"

"You may think me some naive royal girl, with my memories gone anyway, but I assure you I'm not a dolt."

"Yeah, well, we've had our issues, but stupid isn't something I'd ever accuse you of." Scheme after scheme of the Mayor's flitted by in her head and she barked a laugh. "_Believe_ me! No one outsmarts Regina Mills."

"Well... thank you." She frowned. "I think." She licked her lips. Sentimentality wasn't her strong suit when it came to anyone but the men in her life, she knew that, but this whole experience seemed to be opening up something in her. Like water for a wilting blossom. She thought about what Snow had said about opening your heart and trusting that the other person wouldn't crush it. Rather ironic, given Cora's proclivities, but she decided she could trust the blonde. "Emma... I won't ask any more, as you clearly don't wish to talk about it. But you should appreciate that you've got an amazing family, and friends, and they will catch you. I would give anything to have had that. But even my father, whom I love dearly... he never stood up for me. Not really." Emma recognized the sadness behind the disguise of bitterness Regina was wearing. She'd seen it in her own many times before. "But, in the short time I've known you, and what little I know of your past, I will simply say that I'm certain you can handle it. I've seen the way the people in this town look at you. And you need to believe in yourself as they believe in you. I admire you for that."

"Careful Regina - those are toothpaste words," said Emma. With a smirk. At the brunette's silent, frustrated stare, she chuckled, and Regina's stubborn determination not to ask what Emma had meant had again made her almost seem like the old Mayor. Y'know, except for the glitter.

"Toothpaste words. They can't be put back in the tube."

Regina chuckled, despite her irritation, and Madam Mayor was gone again. The 'younger ' older woman had been familiarized with toothpaste over the last two days, so the expression actually made sense. Something rare for her in this new land.

"Like a genie in a bottle," she replied. Emma simply smiled and nodded and Regina sighed. "I suppose the same may become of me."

It was Emma's turn to look confused and Regina couldn't help but take a little enjoyment in not being the eternally lost one for the first time in what felt like ages. "Well, if I get my memory back -"

"_When_," interrupted Emma sternly, and Regina could see the supposed Savior in her.

The brunette sighed. The sentiment was nice, and she always strived to never give up her hope, but she wasn't sure she wanted her memories back, now that she was gathering she wouldn't entirely like the person she'd become. "Fine. _When_ I get my memories back... there's no way it won't change me. To have had this experience."

Emma nodded. "Genie. Bottle. Right. Been there..." she remarked, recalling how Henry had been that for her. And with that, a companionable silence fell over them, each content with finding a friend for the night in the most unlikely of places. "Thanks, Gina."

* * *

**Next Time: **_Road trip!_


	26. Confrontation

**Author's Note: **Hey, many apologies for lack of updating this thing, but I couldn't quite figure how I wanted to play this out. But, I just had my 32 Bday yesterday, so I thought I might give anyone following this fic a little present for the occasion. I hope you enjoy it!

I know Emma might seem a little dark/harsh in this chapter, but this isn't Neal. He didn't send her to jail for noble reasons, and screwed her over for pretty bad ones. So, I think more harshness is rather justified. And don't worry, we'll get more Regina goodness in the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 26: **Confrontation

Emma stuck her head just a bit out the window of her little yellow bug, letting her hair whip in the wind. It was refreshing.

"Hey, Scooby, you gonna loll your tongue out too?" teased August.

Emma pulled her head back in and narrowed her eyes at the former wooden boy. "Very funny."

"Well. There's not many dogs people know by name."

Emma took a sip of her coffee before propping her boots up on the dashboard. "The sun hasn't even come up yet - just trying to wake myself up. Which you should already know is the only reason I let you drive my car in the first place. Why _are _you such a morning person, anyway?"

"Must have something to do with photosynthesis," he joked. At Emma's raised eyebrow he shrugged. "Y'know the whole being created from a tree thing. Actually, I'm not. I'm a nightowl. Haven't been to sleep yet. Come sunrise? It's your shift."

Emma groaned. "In that case, screw this whole waking up thing." She pulled her knit cap over her eyes, reclined her seat, and flipped over on one side. Thanks to plenty of practice, sleep in her car came pretty easy.

* * *

"Wakey wakey princess," said August.

Emma flipped over. "Seriously? I just fell asleep."

"Yeah, that was three hours ago."

"No way."

"Yes way. Look at the clock, miss 'I can't take anything on faith'. And it's your turn at the wheel."

Emma did eye the clock, though she was a discreet as she could manage. She didn't like giving August the satisfaction. "_Fine_. Where exactly is _here_ anyway?" she asked.

"Worchester, Massachusetts."

"Seriously? Already?"

"Half way there. That's why it's your shift," he replied with a smirk.

Emma sighed. "Fair enough."

As they shifted positions, with Emma adjusting the driver's seat, she frowned in concentration. "Did you bring the duct tape - you know, just in case? Or do we need to Google a 'Home Depot'?"

"In my bag," replied August.

Emma returned the smirk. "Good." She then paused as she restarted the car. "Is it bad I kinda want him to need that?"

August almost gulped, setting off Emma's bullshit alarm. She cocked her head. "Seriously?" He was silent. "I thought you said every shoe was dropped!"

"I..."

"August."

He licked his lips. "I... there might be one more thing."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh. This should be good."

"I did it to protect you."

"Just freaking tell me. I'd rather not have this '_revelation'_ in the middle of the 290 highway, so spill it," Emma replied.

"Well... the whole leaving you thing."

"And that protected me _how_?" she ground out.

"Even at seven I could see... I knew we'd get separated at some point. When I got to this world I didn't know I should have said we were siblings or something. And even just a few weeks in I'd seen what the system did - and I..." He sighed. "If you got attached to me -"

Emma sunk her head onto the steering wheel. "Yeah. Yeah. You were a kid just arrived from fairytale land. I get it. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

"I'm so sorry Emma."

"Save it. I've got enough emotional crap I'm about to deal with. We can do this later... maybe over some beers or something. I've got... driving to do."

August didn't have an argument to come back to for this, so he simply nodded. Emma did the same and quickly pulled the car back on to the road.

* * *

It was another two and a half hours before they pulled up to Bailey's house, in a suburb just outside New York City. Emma was rather thankful the guy hadn't opted for an apartment in the city, given driving and finding parking there was a bitch. At least this way it would be quick. Well, at least confronting him would be. She sat, after parking, just staring at the house.

"You okay?" asked August.

Emma couldn't help but chuckle a bit bitterly. "Uh, no?"

"You've got your gun?"

Now it was a genuine laugh from the blonde. "That I do," she said, pulling her jacket back to reveal the weapon.

August smirked. "Then no worries, right?"

Emma returned the expression. "I guess not." She heaved a heavy breath. "Let's go get this jackass." August simply nodded and they both pulled themselves out of the car.

Seeing that a car was in the driveway, she was fairly certain he was home. She swallowed hard. This was gonna suck. Taking down perps wasn't usually a thing that intimated her but this was personal, and knowing what she did now - about him. About magic. About _everything_, made this different. God, how had her life gotten so complicated? Oh, right. She was 'The Savior'. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, even when she was dangerously close to losing it.

When they got to the door Emma held her fist up to the door to knock but then found it frozen, until August laid his hand on her shoulder. "You got this." She didn't know why, but it _was_ somehow comforting. She nodded and then knocked. It was an agonizing thirty seconds - that seemed like an eternity - before the door opened.

And then, there he was. Looking not too unlike she remembered. Maybe some specks of grey in his hair, but the same little goatee and glint in his eye.

His eyebrows shot up. "_Emma_?" She couldn't help but relish finally being one step ahead of the bastard, even as miniscule the distance ahead that step was.

"_Oh_, so you remember after all," she drawled sarcastically. "And here I thought all those letters from jail had been confiscated." It was that instant it clicked in - the extent of what this guy's intentions for her had been all along - much like the magic she'd long thought unreal.

"Well, you must have come here for _some_ reason. Found out I was single?" he needled devilishly.

Emma shot daggers at him with her eyes. The one thing she'd learned from her reunion with her parents was that deflection only showed weakness. It was an empowering realization as she took his behavior in. He was scared. She'd scared him _then_ and she scared him now. The question was, why? Did he think she had magic or something? Then again, August had said people with magic in them, Fairy Tale Land, could sense magic from their realm. She shook her head. She wasn't magical. That would be ridiculous - and totally something she'd know about herself, right?

Her skin crawled as his eyes did the same to take her figure in, lingering in all the usual places, but then, to her surprise, he laughed. "What are you, a strip-o-gram girl now or something, Emmy?" His eyes caught the badge fastened at her waist. "Or should that be Officer Emmy _Lay_good?"

Emma felt her face flush, somehow both hot and cold at the same time, like trying to step into a bath that was too hot. She turned her back and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, blinking tightly to squeeze the tears from her eyes. As a grown woman, how smarmy all this bullshit was was obvious, but she still remembered how, as a teen it had seemed a compliment. Mainly because she hadn't had anyone pay her any attention or compliments growing up. Now, the attention was hollow, and frankly, while it would have been hollow coming from one of the bail jumpers she would set up for a 'date', this was worse, knowing she'd fallen for that ten years ago. The remaining 'dew' on her lashes formed a distracting halo around Bae, which she wiped away as casually as she could with her thumb. Emma knew he'd picked up what was going on, of course, but she'd thrown away the sadness for their relationship years ago. But, she also knew that somehow guys never seemed to realize tears could also be the equivalent of a warning sound of a rattlesnake's tail. This was the man who may as well be credited as the contractor that laid the bricks in the wall her - the wall her heart had been trapped behind for a decade. _He_ was the reason an already difficult reunion with her parents had stalled. The reason she had spent too many birthdays alone, because some paranoid insecurity in the back of her head - no, heart - had made sharing even the most basic personal information next to impossible. The progress Snow and David had made was a testament to them, and she could see where Henry's gumption had come from. Them.

"Ten years... the last time I saw you, I was in cuffs..." She grit her teeth, inhaling deeply in a rage. "Where the _fuck _do you get off?!" she growled, her voice more gravely with emotion than she would have liked. The look of surprise in his eyes brought a smirk back to her lips. The one thing his betrayal had given her was a tough edge not present before. "Yeah, I'm not _Emmy_ anymore."

"Yeah. I believe it's_ Sheriff _Swan now," added August as he sidled up beside her on the porch. Bay narrowed his eyes at the man, but there didn't seem to be any recognition there.

He quickly puffed himself up, smart-ass egotistic mask back in place. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," replied Emma flatly.

"So, what, you finally getting your revenge now?"

She shook her head. "Justice maybe. But no revenge."

"Oh, quite the hero. Or Should I say Saviour?" replied Bae.

"I prefer Sheriff."

"Convict turned law-lady."

"Law_person_," replied Emma.

Bae chuckled. "Right." It was that moment that he made a dash for it, but luckily August and Emma were fairly adept at chasing people down. Bailey only made it through his living room, the back door of the kitchen, and to the top of his backyard's fence before he was pulled back down to the ground and found a gun leveled at his head, the weapon steady as August quickly cuffed Bailey.

"There's no way you have jurisdiction here!" he complained.

Emma shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who ran. We could've just talked." She holstered the pistol.

"Why are you even doing this?!"

"Seriously? You sent me to prison and you're asking why I'd do this?"

"But you can't - there's no evidence!" said Bae as he struggled under August's weight.

"What? Send you to prison? Yeah. You're right. But I made a deal. And you're having a little family reunion."

Bae froze at this. "My father?!"

"I made a deal," replied Emma.

"You made a deal? With _him?_ Are you nuts? What did he give you? That badge?!"

"I made a deal to save a kid he wanted to steal. Look. You want the whole story? We've got a five hour drive to share. So I suggest you settle down, 'cause I've got a whole roll of duct tape in the trunk of my car, but I'd guess the cramps would be quite a bitch by the end of the ride if I had to tape you up."

Bailey sunk his head. Seeing his father was the last thing he wanted, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Besides, maybe if he cooperated he might be able to make a run for it at a pitstop. They had to stop for gas at some point, right? "Fine. I'll go."


End file.
